


i got fire in my soul

by fakeheaux



Series: spider-man au [1]
Category: Marvel, One Direction (Band), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Powers, Alternate Universe - Spider-Man Fusion, Bank Robbery, F/M, Fluff, Gun Violence, High School, LONG NOTES, Louis Tomlinson is a Little Shit, M/M, Major Character Injury, Marvel Cameos, Minor Injuries, New York City, Niall-centric, Not Canon Compliant, Oscorp - Freeform, SO LONG IM SORRY LMAO, Secret Identity, Spider-Man Kiss, Teenage Dorks, Teenage Drama, Teenage One Direction, Violence, gratuitous tony stark cameo, harry is rich, harry styles is harry osborn, im a brooklyn bitch - steve rogers, niall is blond, sorry liam he's not in this too much, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-15 17:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15417537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakeheaux/pseuds/fakeheaux
Summary: “Ever since last year it’s like our little Nialler here is a danger magnet. Pencils, paper, trash, balls—of any kind, mind you,” he smirks down at Niall, giving him a small kick, “they’re all attracted to him.”Harry snorts out a laugh, hiding it in his burger. “Basically, if it flies, Niall dies.”“Except,” Niall cuts in, noticing Zayn turning a bit green. “I don’t actually die. I’ve got some pretty good reflexes, not to toot my own horn.”Eleanor grins, taking some cheez-its from Louis. “Yeah, it’s like, you know how most people get growth spurts over the summer? Niall got one of those, only instead of getting taller he got better at ducking.”or the one where niall is really good at ducking because he's actually spider-man ft zayn as the damsel in distress, harry styles as harry osborn, and a gratuitous tony stark cameo because why not





	i got fire in my soul

**Author's Note:**

> wow this is the longest thing i've ever written and been happy with??? i love it so much and i usually hate what i write lmao but this is unrelated and i have some thank yous so:
> 
> thank you to jamila (i don't know her tumblr and at this point im afraid to ask), my wonderful beta who honestly saved this fic because when she told me she'd left notes i ended up seeing like five hundred so this would have been a mess without her. also, your reactions give me life.
> 
> thank you to ken (kiitzutsukemasu on tumblr) for making an amazing work of art that looks like an actual comic book cover and that managed to capture how i saw the boys even though i was super vague about their descriptions lmao thank youuu for being such an amazing artist. idk how to link stuff in the notes but if you swing over to flickrseshions on tumblr and search the spider-man au tag OR the 1d collab tag you will find ken's amazing art along with the fic post :)
> 
> and a final thank you to the mods, who were so helpful everytime i had a question, and who were able to put together a wonderful new bang-type fest without allowing tinhats. you guys all did such a wonderful job and we are all very thankful :')
> 
> this fic is a mix of all three spider-man franchises, with a little bit of content pulled from each one. disclaimer: i obviously do not own any member of one direction or any character related to marvel comics. also, i did the bare minimum when it came to research for this so if you notice something is off or whatever im SORRY im just lazy :///
> 
> title is from the song glitter and gold by barnes courtney  
> sorry these notes are so long lmao but thanks for readin

Niall is probably going to die today.

He doesn’t usually have such a negative outlook when it comes to these things, but he’s just busted his head open and he’s careening through the air at around thirty miles per hour, which. Not safe, right? But he can’t exactly stop because the Green Goblin is flying after him on his hoverboard, and he’s catching up pretty quickly. So yeah. Niall is probably going to die.

“You’re not getting away, Spider-Man!” the Green Goblin yells. Niall sighs to himself. The man seriously went and bought—or made, who knows—a speaker so that Niall could hear him no matter how far away he was. As if he wasn’t annoying enough already.

Swinging into a small alley, Niall looks for a place he can quickly disappear. Running away from the problem isn’t something he likes to do when he’s on the metaphorical clock, but he’s had enough practice in real life that it shouldn’t be too hard. He lands on a fire escape, rolling across when he fumbles the landing. Landing on his back, he stretches out and takes a deep breath. There’s a _woosh_ of air when the Green Goblin flies through the alley, but he doesn’t spot Niall. Which is great but, like. Does this mean he’ll just go back to his lair now, or?

“Until next time, Spider-Man!” he yells, and. Great. Niall needs to go home right now, this very instant. He’s tired.

But right now he’s just going to take a quick nap.

⦕⎈⦖

“I think he’s bleeding.”

“Maybe he’s dead?”

“No, look at his chest. His head is just messed up, that’s all.”

Niall groans, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. He can only vaguely remember what happened before he passed out—a weird fight with the Green Goblin that led to him falling three stories headfirst—but he’s not exactly sure where he is. All he really knows is he’s somewhere in Queens.

“Um, are you okay?” a voice asks. He blinks his eyes open, wincing at the sudden light. Two heads are hovering over him, looking curious and only slightly concerned. Niall sighs.

“Yeah, m’fine,” he says, struggling to sit up. His head rushes, and he groans, curling into a ball. It doesn’t really help. “Mostly.”

The girl who spoke sits down next to him, crossing her legs. She cocks her head to the side, curious. Her hair is in pigtails.

“You don’t look okay,” she says. She motions to the other kid, who only looks a few years younger than her, and she sits next to her, shuffling so she’s blocked. “Your head is bleeding. And the Green Goblin was looking for you.” She squints at him. “How old are you?”

Sighing, Niall gingerly feels out the wound on his head. He winces, flinching away when a fresh wave of pain washes over him. “Um, I dunno, how old do you think I am?” he asks, making note of the blood dotting his fingers. He’s pretty sure he can feel some caked on the side of his mask too, sticking the material to his skin.

The girl shrugs. “You fight like you’re a grown up, but you sound like you’re a kid. My brother sounds older than you, and he’s still in high school, so I don’t think you’re very old. Maybe fifteen. Maybe.” She stares at him, barely even blinking. Niall squints.

“That’s...not right,” he says. She’s only off by two years, but still. He finds it insulting. “Anyway, how old are you? You look a little too young to be home alone, let alone playing on a fire escape.”

“Not alone,” the girls retorts matter-of-factly. “My brother’s inside, but he’s doing homework so he didn’t notice when you fell. And I’m twelve. But my birthday’s in a few months, so I’m practically almost thirteen.” She crosses her arms. “I’m plenty old enough to be on a fire escape. My mom lets me hang out here all the time.”

Niall nods, vision blurring. “Alright. Um, so is your mom not home, because I hit my head and I would like a bit of medical attention, and I’m not really interested in having an almost-thirteen-year-old do that for me.”

The girl scoffs. “I just told you my brother’s home, geez.” She stands, pulling the other girl up by the hand, and they climb back into the window. Niall sits there, confused, until she pokes her head back out. “So, are you coming or what?”

Oh. He staggers to his feet, head rushing, and tumbles into the window. He lands on his ass, which isn’t very superhero-like of him, but he doesn’t really care right now. He rests his head against the windowsill, panting. He really needs to get his head looked at.

“Zayn!” the girls are calling, somewhere deeper in the apartment than he is. He closes his eyes, trying to push down the wave of nausea. “Spider-Man needs your help!”

Niall doesn’t bother opening his eyes when he hears the supposed older brother yank his door open, a hissed _what do you want I’m busy_ cutting across the apartment. It’s a pretty nice apartment, from the short glance Niall got. He wonders what these kids’ parents do. Well, he wonders very briefly what the parents do. His head hurts too much to really think right now.

God, his calculus homework is going to be such a _bitch_.

He’s so busy thinking about how much his grade will drop if he just doesn’t do the homework that he doesn’t notice when the girls come back, older brother in tow.

“Oh, my god,” the brother says. Niall waves a hand weekly, not bothering to open his eyes. “This can’t actually be happening. Waliyha, what did you do?”

“Nothing!” the older girl snaps. Nice name, Niall thinks, woozy. “Um, thanks, I guess.” Okay, so he didn’t just think it. “Zayn, he just landed on the fire escape like an hour ago, okay, I didn’t do anything. He was running from the Green Goblin.” She says the villain’s name in a hushed whisper, like it’s a bad word. Good, Niall thinks. The children of New York are becoming more and more educated every day.

“That can’t be possible,” Zayn says. “Spider-Man doesn’t just land on your fire escape, okay, especially not _our_ fire escape. Look, bro, I dunno what kind of joke this is, but I’m calling the cops, alright?”

Niall opens his eyes. He shoots a web at the brother’s phone when he pulls it out, yanking it back to him. Holding up a finger, he places the phone onto the table beside him. “No,” he says. “If you call the cops, they’ll take me to the hospital, and then they’ll probably arrest me, and then everyone will know who I am, which will defeat the purpose of the mask. If I wanted people to know who I am, I wouldn’t wear a mask. That’s the whole point of a mask.”

The older girl, Waliyha, frowns over at him. “Zayn, he needs a doctor or something. He’s bleeding.”

Zayn stares at Niall, then glances down to the younger sister, who hasn’t said a word since Niall woke up. “Is he really Spider-Man?”

The girl nods wordlessly, eyes wide. Sighing hard, Zayn looks up and mumbles what seems like a quick prayer. “Alright, then. Well, Spider-Man, you’re in luck. My mom’s a nurse, so I can probably help. You might have to take off the mask, though.”

“Alright,” Niall grunts, moving to his feet. He throws one leg out the window. “No can do, so bye.” Only that is, of course, when he falls back inside, losing his balance. He groans, pressing his face into the carpet. “Please don’t take off my mask.”

Zayn slowly approaches Niall, kneels down by him. “Listen, I’m not sure how else you want me to do this, unless you’re expecting me to cut the mask around the wound. There’s no other way for me to get to it.”

“Do that,” Niall mutters. “Cut the mask. I have more. It won’t match the rest, but like. I’ll manage.”

“Spider-Man cares about whether or not his mask matches his outfit?” Zayn says, and Niall can hear the smile in it. He chuckles weakly.

“I have different suits for different days of the week, don’t you know?” he says, letting Zayn sling one of his arms over his shoulder. He tries to help, but he’s not strong enough. “Was a real big deal to the _Bugle_ when I revealed the All-American.”

Zayn laughs, and they stumble a step. Niall grunts, clapping a hand over his mouth. “The what?”

Niall swallows down the sudden wave of nasuea, letting Zayn half-carry him through the apartment. It really is nice, for an apartment. “Nothing. How many rooms does this place have, eh?”

“Um,” Zayn laughs, leading Niall into a bathroom. “Four, why?”

“Dunno,” Niall sighs out, dropping onto the toilet. “Must be expensive, though.” He leans his head against the wall behind him. “Just, um. Wondering, I guess.”

Shaking his head, Zayn digs underneath the sink. He unearths a first-aid kit, and calls out to his sister “Wals, get me ma’s fabric scissors.” He turns to Niall again. “So, uh, how exactly did you end up on our fire escape again?”

“Oh, um,” Niall swallows hard, watching Zayn work through hooded eyes. “The Green Goblin, you’ve heard of him probably, he was like, robbing a bank or something, I don’t even know, but obviously I had to stop him, cause like...I don’t think the cops could do anything to the Green Goblin. Like, they can’t fly.”

“Neither can you,” Zayn says, an amused lilt to his voice.

Niall scoffs. “I get pretty close, though. Point is, like. I fell out of a window trying to dodge one of his bomb things, and I couldn’t stop the fall. So I hit my head, and it hurt, so I knew I had to get away from the Goblin, because I don’t think I’d be able to fight him in this condition. And I landed on your fire escape.”

Zayn hums. “Alright. What do you usually do when you get hurt like this, if you can’t go to the hospital?” Waliyha comes running in, scissors grasped in her fist. She hands them to Zayn dutifully, nodding when he thanks her. “Buzz off, Wals.”

A laugh bursts out of Niall, and he waves a hand when Zayn and his sister give him a funny look. “Buzz. Like flies.” He drops his head forward, like _duh_. “Spiders eat flies.”

“Maybe we should take him to the hospital, after all,” Waliyha says quietly.

“No, just,” Niall groans, laughing. “It’s just a joke, man. Come on, no hospitals, please.”

“Okay, let’s just get this done,” Zayn interrupts, stepping closer to Niall. “I’m gonna cut the mask, now, alright? Stay still. Wals, go.”

His sister whines. “But—”

“Go,” Zayn says firmly. Niall looks away, feeling a bit awkward. Grumbling to herself, Waliyha stomps off. Zayn chuckles tensely. “Preteens, amirite?”

Niall shrugs, watching Zayn as he leans in close to Niall’s head. “Wouldn’t really know. Don’t spend too much time near them.”

Zayn hums, sliding a finger underneath the small hole that’s been ripped into the fabric of Niall’s mask. Niall winces as it sticks to some dried blood on his head, but Zayn manages to cut away a decent portion so he can get to the injury.

“So, uh,” Zayn says, dabbing some alcohol on a cotton ball. “Do you know Iron Man? Or any of the Avengers?”

Niall laughs. “Ha, I wish. Nah, Iron Man sent me a letter in the form of a billboard a few months ago saying ‘thanks for keeping your side of town safe,’ but. I’ve never met any of them. Be pretty cool to be an Avenger, but for now I’m stuck fighting normal people who are just kind of angry. Not any aliens. Not yet.” He points at Zayn, a _you wait and see_ type of thing. Zayn laughs, approaching Niall again.

“Right,” he says. “Um, this is gonna hurt, a bit.” He presses the cotton ball to Niall’s forehead lightly, pulling away with a grimace when Niall hisses, then presses it down harder, following Niall as he pulls away. “Come on, man, I gotta disinfect it.”

“Urgh,” Niall groans. “I’ll be fine in a few days, anyway. Probably by tomorrow, even.”

Zayn sucks on his teeth. “Well, my mom would kill me if she found out I let Spider-Man leave without at least making sure he’s not concussed, so. This is more for my benefit than yours.”

Humming, Niall sits there and lets Zayn dab at his forehead, cleaning up the blood and disinfecting the wound. They fall into silence for a few moments, and Niall doesn’t even mind. He’s usually the first to break a silence, especially with strangers, but for some reason not with Zayn. Eventually Zayn pulls out a bandage, which he rips open and carefully applies to the gash in Niall’s head.

“Shouldn’t need stitches, it’s not that deep,” Zayn says quietly. He leans back, inspecting his work with a small smile. Niall smiles back, until he remembers that Zayn can’t see his face.

“Thanks,” he says. He tilts his head back against the wall, sighing. “Do I have to go home?”

Laughing, Zayn perches on the edge of the tub. “Well, you could stay here, but you kind of smell like smoke and other gross things, so I’d have to ask you to shower. But that would require you taking off your mask, so. I think you should go home.”

Ugh. Niall stares at Zayn, not really sure what to say. A thank you would probably be suffice. Yeah, he should say that.

“You’re unfairly good looking,” is what comes out instead. His eyes widen, and he stands quickly, which sends another rush to his head _and_ startles Zayn enough that he falls back into the tub, arms wind-milling as he goes. Without really thinking of it, Niall shoots a web at Zayn, catching him by the middle of his shirt and pulling him back. Zayn comes shooting at Niall, which isn’t exactly what he meant to do, but he rolls with it, steadying the other boy so they’re standing chest to chest. “Um, thanks. For not taking off my mask. I’m gonna go now.”

“Okay,” Zayn says, more than a little breathlessly. His eyes are wide, staring into the reflective surfaces of Niall’s eye pieces. “You’re welcome.” He takes a step back, bumping into the tub again. He holds his shirt away from his chest. “Um, this isn’t gonna stain, is it?”

Niall laughs. “Nah, give it a few hours and it should dissolve. It’ll be like, um, kinetic sand, almost? But it won’t be gross. Um. I’ll uh, I’ll see you around, alright?”

Zayn nods. “Sure. I can see you out, if you want.”

Chuckling, Niall makes his way out of the bathroom. “Nah, I’m just climbing out of a window. Not that big a deal.” He moves his hands to his legs, momentarily forgetting that he doesn’t have pockets. He tries to play it off, but he knows Zayn’s noticed by the amused quirk of his lips. “Just, um. You know, send up the spider signal if you need some rescuing, alright?”

“Sure,” Zayn says, nodding. He follows Niall out to the living room. They don’t say anything until Niall’s already got a leg hanging out of the window. “Hey, um, Spider-Man?” Niall looks up at him. “Stay safe out there, yeah?”

Grinning, Niall shrugs. “I’ll try. See you around, Zayn.” And he climbs out the window completely, shoots off a web, and swings away.

His head doesn’t hurt too much, anymore.

⦕⎈⦖

“Bro, what happened to your face?” Louis asks the next day. Niall shrugs, sliding into his seat.

“Was helping Denise clear some stuff out of the attic and I fell,” he says. He’d said something similar to Denise when she’d come home the night before and tutted over him. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking, and when I fell down the doorway I ended up hitting my head on one of the rungs.”

Louis laughs at him, a funny staccato sound that brings a grin to Niall’s face. “How stupid can you be, man?” He leans into Niall’s space, prodding at the bruise on Niall’s forehead. He healed pretty quickly, as per. The scrape was gone by the time he woke up, not even a scab left behind, but it is still a bit sore to the touch. Not that Louis cares.

“Ah, stop, man, it hurts,” Niall says, pulling away.

Ignoring him, Louis snorts, saying, “Do you even have an attic? Don’t you live in an apartment?” Louis tries to follow Niall, almost tipping his chair over. He winces when he goes too far, tilting his chair back quickly. The legs hit the tile floor of the classroom with a bang, and their teacher whips her head in their direction.

“Louis, Niall, stop messing around,” she snaps. “Come on, how old are we?”

Rolling his eyes, Louis makes a face. “Well, I dunno how old you are, Ms. Warren, but I just turned five last week.”

“Lou,” Niall chastises quietly. He’s still grinning softly, but whenever Louis gets into a snappy mood with Ms. Warren it never ends well.

Sighing, Louis nods. “No, sorry, Ms., I won’t do it again.” He gives Niall a look, doesn’t answer when Warren thanks him sarcastically. “Why do you defend her? She’s such a pain, man.”

Shrugging, Niall pulls out his notebook as the bell rings. “I just don’t think you need to have a smart-ass response to everything, is all.”

“Alright, everyone, that was the bell, you should be in your seats,” Warren calls out, effectively ending the conversation. She brings up the powerpoint from the day before, but as soon as she starts recounting some points from the prior lesson, the door is pulled open. “You’re late, go get a pass,” she says, not even turning from her laptop. Niall’s breath catches in his throat.

“Um, I have one, actually,” Zayn says, holding out the yellow paper hall pass the counselors use. “I’m new, but I’ll make sure to be on time tomorrow.” He smiles politely as Warren looks up at him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, approaching him. She takes the pass out of his hand, checks the schedule he’s got in his other one. “Zayn. Welcome, Zayn. Um, go ahead and sit over,” she scans the room for an empty seat, and points to the only empty lab table in the class. “There, by Niall. We’ll have to get you a partner, but for now just work with Niall and Louis until we can.” Zayn nods, and takes his schedule back. “Actually, I’m handing out a worksheet in just a few minutes, so go ahead and pull a chair up to their table.”

“Alright, thanks,” Zayn says quietly. He ducks his head as he makes his way to the back of the class where Niall and Louis are. Niall can’t breathe. When Zayn catches his eye, he gives a small wave, and Niall smiles weakly, hand barely lifting from the table.

Louis pokes him with a pencil. Hard. “Are you okay?” he asks, ignoring Niall’s yelp.

Rubbing a hand over the sore spot, Niall frowns at him. “Not exactly, I was just stabbed by my asshole friend.”

“Niall, I know having a new student in class is exciting but you still need to pay attention,” Warren calls. Some students snicker, turning Niall’s ears red. Louis just laughs at him, hand over his mouth.

Their table jostles slightly when Zayn sets his bag down on top of it, pulling one of the metal stools over to the side. He gives them a small smile, pulling his bag to his chest and resting an arm on it. Niall’s eyes go wide when he sees that Zayn’s tied the piece of his mask to the little loop at the top. It’s still got his blood on it. Zayn notices him looking at it and smiles sheepishly, tucking the loop underneath the rest of the bag.

Warren passes out a worksheet for them to work on, and once she’s sat down Louis pounces.

“What’s up, I’m Louis,” he says, holding out a hand. Zayn shakes it firmly. Niall knows it’s firm because Louis’s eye twitches. Louis’s eye only twitches when he’s been surprised but doesn’t want to show it. “You new, then?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, um. My dad got a new job, so we had to move, so I transferred. Um, I’m Zayn, by the way.”

Niall clears his throat, holding his hand out. “Niall,” he says, voice cracking. Louis snorts, elbowing him, and scribbles his name across the top of his page. His elbow jostles into Niall’s, which is something that Niall warned him about when they were first assigned as each other’s lab partners his freshman year (Louis’s sophomore one), since Niall is left handed. Louis didn’t care enough to switch their seats, but sometimes Niall really wishes he had.

“So, Zayn,” Louis says casually, pretending to read the instructions on the page. “What’s your dad do?”

Zayn looks up, startled and doe-eyed. “Oh, um, he’s the new captain of the 102nd precinct. The last one retired or something, I’m not really sure.”

“He was having heart problems,” Niall says absently. Of course he had heard that the captain of the precinct was retiring; it’s all the cops would gossip about for weeks on the police radio. Not that Niall listens to it regularly, usually just when he’s hanging out after school and doesn’t really have anything to do.

Louis and Zayn stare at him, Louis annoyed and Zayn surprised.

“Why would you possibly know that?” Louis asks. “Why would you _need_ to know that? Why are you like this?”

Zayn laughs. “I’m guessing you’re just full of knowledge about the police force, then?”

“He is, actually,” Louis says, leaning in conspiratorially. Zayn leans in too, a smile on his face. “He knows almost everything there is to know about every precinct’s commanding officer in New York. And some of the lower-level cops. He’s weird like that. Full of useless information.” Zayn laughs.

“Hey,” Niall says, offended. Louis usually loves to show off his useless information. “I’m not weird, I just—” he hesitates when he sees Zayn watching him, “—do my research,” he finishes quietly. “Anyway,” he says loudly, “what’s that thing on your bag, Zayn?” As if he doesn’t already know. Easiest way to throw them off the scent, in Niall’s experience. Except...he had a full conversation with Zayn yesterday. What if he recognizes his voice?

Nah. He would have said something by now.

“Oh, well,” Zayn pulls the loop out again, rubbing the scrap of fabric between two fingers. “I, um, I’m a big Spider-Man fan, right, so I cosplayed as him a few months ago. I scrapped the suit, but I decided I should at least keep one part of it, so I did. It’s just, um, just memorabilia, really.” He nods, a small quirk to his mouth like he knows something they don’t. Which, like, obviously he does.

Louis laughs. “You’re in luck, man, no one loves Spider-Man more than this kid right here,” he thumps Niall’s chest hard, not even looking up from his paper. Grunting, Niall rubs at the spot, grimacing. “He knows almost everything there is to know about him, too. He actually met him, once. Tell him, Ni, go on.”

Niall’s cheeks flush as Zayn turns his attention to him, eyes wide. “Um, it was nothing, really, I just. I was in a store, and there was a hold up, and he came in and, you know, saved the day.” What really happened was he had been sick with a cold, but when he went down to the corner store for some medicine some rando with a gun tried to rob the place. He’d been able to change pretty quickly, into and out of the suit without anyone noticing, but when the story had ended up on the news he’d had to make something up for Louis, who had been waiting for him at his apartment. “We didn’t talk, or anything, obviously, just. He webbed up the bad guy and left.”

“Wow,” Zayn says, eyes shining. “I’ve met him too, you know.” His cheeks turn red when Niall and Louis both stare at him, and he backtracks. “Well, it wasn’t anything like that, I mean. I didn’t really meet him, I guess, I just. I saw him chilling on a fire escape outside my apartment yesterday. He looked like he’d taken a bit of a hit.”

A small smile grows on Niall’s face. So Zayn really wants to keep it a secret, then. Niall can appreciate that. He is a man of secrecy himself, after all.

“That’s dope, man,” Louis says, grinning. “Did you get a good look at his suit? Was it really webbed with his actual, you know, stuff,” he asks, motioning to his wrists.

Zayn nods, laughing. “Yeah, it looked like it was like, coming up off the suit, like, 3D, almost?” Grinning, he scoots to the end of his seat. “It was so cool, man, like, the suit is so amazing, especially up close. The tv just makes it look like a onesie, man, they don’t him justice at all.”

Niall scribbles some work onto his sheet, a small smile on his face. It’s always fun hearing people gush over Spider-Man, but he especially loves it when Louis talks about him. Louis _loves_ Spider-Man, has ever since the web-slinger made his big debut. It’s a nice boost to Niall’s ego, in all honesty. But knowing that Zayn isn’t going to give up the whole story of what happened between them the day before makes him a little smug. To think that some of the people he’s met treasure that moment so much that they won’t tell anyone about it is _kind of_ amazing.

“How the hell did you get that?” Louis says, giving Niall a small shove. They argue for the rest of the period over whether or not Niall had actually got the question right, but when the bell rings Louis jumps right back on Zayn. “Oh, man, show me your schedule.” He checks over it quickly, grinning. “Okay, so we’ve got this period, fourth and fifth together, and you’ve got third and seventh with Niall, and you’ve got second lunch, which means you’re sitting with us. Meet us outside, alright?”

Niall, noticing Zayn’s slightly overwhelmed expression, laughs. “If you want. Obviously you don’t have to, Louis’s just being possessive. He likes having new victims.”

“No, no,” Zayn shakes his head, following them out of the class. “It’s fine, I was just surprised, is all. Last time I was new there wasn’t anyone demanding I had lunch with them. I’d be glad to sit with you guys.”  
  
“Great, now get going, Moore will bitch at you all period if you’re late, even if you are new,” Louis says, pulling Niall away. When Zayn just stares at the sea of students surrounding them, Louis laughs. “Go down the hall until you’re in the next building, go up a flight, and it’ll be the second door on your left.”

Laughing, Zayn calls a _thanks_ and follows Louis’s directions. Louis slings an arm over Niall’s shoulder.

“So, uh, he was pretty hot, don’t you think?” he asks casually.

Sighing, Niall elbows Louis in the stomach hard, not stopping when he doubles over. “Shut up, Louis.”

⦕⎈⦖

When third period rolls around, Niall walks into his class to see Zayn sat in his desk. Grinning softly, Niall approaches him.

“You’re in my seat, fish,” he says, as straight-faced as he can. Zayn actually looks up, eyes wide, until he sees Niall and his expression falls into something less terrified and more annoyed.

“Stop, I thought you were actually upset,” Zayn laughs. He stands, grabbing his bag from his lap. Halfway out of the desk, he pauses, stuck in an awkward hover. “Which seat isn’t taken, then?”

Shrugging, Niall drops into the seat beside Zayn. “Doesn’t actually matter. We all kind of just sit wherever we want; I was just pulling your leg.” He laughs when Zayn gives him a dubious look. “I’m serious, bro, sit down.”

Lips pursed, Zayn slowly sits back down. “Alright. I better not get called out, man.” He shakes his head when all Niall does is laugh. “Are you a—a senior? Or a junior?”

“Junior,” Niall says, grimacing playfully. “I have all of my credits save, like, three, though, which I’ll get next year, but I might just take them all online over the summer and graduate early. Who knows.”

“Right,” Zayn says, drawing it out. He stares at Niall, head quirked. “I’m sorry, it’s just. Have we met, before?” Niall stares at him, frozen. “I know it sounds weird, but like. Your voice is kind of familiar, and I keep getting this sense of deja vu. Like in first period, I dunno. Just felt like I already knew you.”

Well. There goes Niall’s hope for secrecy. “Um, I don’t think so?” He zips open his bookbag and looks through it, trying to look busy. “I think I’d remember meeting you; you’re unfairly good looking.” He freezes, remembering that he literally said that exact same thing the day before in Zayn’s bathroom. He can feel Zayn looking at him but he doesn’t react, clearing his throat and pulling out his binder. The bell rings and their teacher starts talking, saving Niall from any further conversation. Their teacher lectures from bell to bell, not giving them a chance to talk again, which Niall is grateful for. It gives him time to think of stuff to say in case Zayn figures out that he’s the weirdo who climbed through his window the day before.

Once the bell rings for the end of the period, Niall shoves all his stuff into his bag and stands.  
“Um, so I’ll see you at lunch, right?” he asks, swinging his back onto his shoulders. Zayn nods, gathering his stuff more slowly. He stares at Niall. “I’ll uh, I’ll see you later.” He turns to leave the class when—

“Wait, Niall,” Zayn calls. Niall grimaces, but fixes his face before turning back. “Um, how do I get to my next class?” He looks sheepish, holding out his schedule, the paper limp from being passed between hands all day. Huffing out a laugh, Niall takes it and checks the room number.

“Yeah, uh,” Niall runs a hand through his hair, thinking, “have you seen the auditorium?” Zayn nods. “Okay, so it’s the little building beside it. Just head to the end of the hall and it’ll be the room that’s kind of tucked into a corner. You’ll see what I mean.” He backs down the aisle between their desks, fists wrapped around his bag straps. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

Zayn nods, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Yeah. See you.”

Lip caught between his teeth, Niall turns and exits the room.

“Unfairly good looking, really, Horan?” he mutters, shaking his head. “Might as well have just told him the mask was yours.”

He makes it through the next class without saying anything else incriminating. It’s not like he’s usually on his toes this way, seeing as he’s been keeping the secret for over a year now, but Zayn just caught him off guard. And if he recognized Niall’s voice, it’s only a matter of time before he figures out who Spider-Man really is. And obviously Zayn is a smart guy, so. Niall has some damage control he needs to work on.

⦕⎈⦖

When he gets to their table at lunch, Zayn is already sat with Louis and the rest of their inner group. Niall only hesitates in the doorway to the lawn for a second before Harry sees him and waves. Grinning a little awkwardly, Niall nods back and starts walking towards them. While he does love his friends, he doesn’t love their insistence on sitting outside every day, regardless of the weather. They don’t even sit at a table; they sit in the bleachers by the football field, as if that makes them cool or something. It doesn’t, by the way. No one thinks you’re cool just because you don’t eat lunch at a table. When you’re the only ones out there, everyone just thinks you’re weird. Niall knows that, see, because Flash Thompson loves to remind him of how weird they all are for sitting on the bleachers, even when it’s raining or freezing or snowing. But that’s alright, because—

“Watch out!” someone yells, and Niall barely flinches, leaning back dramatically as a football flies past him. He’s lucky he didn’t buy lunch today; the ball would’ve completely ruined it if he had, and then where would he be.

He jogs over to where the ball landed, tosses it back to the group of freshmen who were playing. He gives them a simple wave when they thank him, and he climbs the rest of the way to where Louis and them are all sitting, staring at him wide-eyed. Chuckling, he takes a seat by Louis, stealing his bag of chips. Louis smacks him upside the head but doesn’t take the bag back, so he counts it as a win.

“So, um,” Harry says slowly. “Are we just gonna act like we didn’t almost witness your death for the fourth time this week?”

Zayn chokes on his drink, wiping some spill off his chin with a napkin. Classy. Niall likes it. “I’m sorry, did you say the fourth time this _week_?” He looks between all of them, Niall and Louis and Louis’s girlfriend, Eleanor, who just stare back at him blankly. “As in he regularly almost dies?”

Niall crunches on a chip, deciding it’d be best if he didn’t answer.

“Yeah, you get used to it,” Louis says, breaking the silence. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a box of cheez-its. “Ever since last year it’s like our little Nialler here is a danger magnet. Pencils, paper, trash, balls—of any kind, mind you,” he smirks down at Niall, giving him a small kick, “they’re all attracted to him.”

Harry snorts out a laugh, hiding it in his burger. “Basically, if it flies, Niall dies.”

“ _Except_ ,” Niall cuts in, noticing Zayn turning a bit green. “I don’t actually die. I’ve got some pretty good reflexes, not to toot my own horn.”

"Well, you need somebody to toot it, why not do it yourself," Louis mutters. He yelps when Eleanor smacks him.

Grinning, she taking some cheez-its from Louis. “Anyway, it’s like, you know how most people get growth spurts over the summer? Niall got one of those, only instead of getting taller he got better at ducking.”

“A fantastic ability, if you ask me,” Niall says, a hand to his chest. He shakes his bag of chips in Zayn’s direction. “Want one?”

Still looking a little queasy, Zayn shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t really like those.”

Louis snorts, digging through his box. “They’re the best kind, bro, come on,” he says, mouth full.  Eleanor shoves him, artfully stealing his box as he falls off his bleacher. Everyone laughs, even Zayn, but Niall notices he still looks a bit uneasy. It’s alright, he thinks. Zayn’ll get used to Niall’s impending death eventually.

They spend the rest of lunch asking Zayn about his family, his old school, and a ton of other way-too-personal things that teenagers don’t mind asking, especially if those teenagers hang out with one Louis Tomlinson. The amount of time Zayn blushes in the one conversation _almost_ beats Niall’s own personal record, but Niall only thinks it’s because his skin is darker, so it’s harder to notice.

When the bell rings, they gather their stuff and start climbing down the bleachers. Niall hangs back, pulling on Zayn’s sleeve to get him to stay too. He gives Niall a curious look, and Niall grins, shrugging.

“It’s not that big a deal, me almost dying,” he says. “I know they made it sound like it happens a lot, but it’s usually just, like, paper balls and stuff. I _am_ really good at ducking, though, so it’s not like I have a near death experience every day.” Except, he kind of does, seeing as he tends to do a lot of crime fighting every night. “I’m perfectly safe, I promise.”

Shaking his head, Zayn huffs out a laugh. “Um, that’s good to hear, I guess. Well, I gotta catch up to Louis, otherwise I’ll get lost, so. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Niall agrees, smiling. They split up as Zayn goes to follow Louis, and Niall checks his phone for something to do as he walks, until Zayn calls his name again. He turns, brows quirked in question.

“Stay safe out there, yeah?” he calls, a curious look on his face. Well. That’s that question answered.

Laughing, Niall shrugs. “Eh, we’ll see,” he says, not wanting to actually prove Zayn right. He sees Zayn’s face fall in disappointment, but while he feels a little bad about it he’s not exactly trying to put his secret identity on blast.

He’s pretty distracted throughout the rest of the day, wondering if Zayn will outright ask him if he’s Spider-Man, but when he gets to seventh period and sees Zayn sitting in the back again he finds that he might just tell him the truth if he does.

Wow. He really is a sucker for a nice jawline.

Zayn looks up when he sits down next to him, a small smile on his face.

“Not gonna yell at me for sitting in your seat again, are you?” he asks dryly.

Laughing, Niall shakes his head. “Nah, not this time.” He pulls off his bag and drops it onto the seat next to him. It’s a fine arts class, so there aren’t any real desks. Instead, the class is a maze of long black tables that were too old for the science classes but too new to throw away. He quirks his lips into a half smile when he sees Zayn staring. “Yes?”

“Nothing, it’s just,” Zayn laughs, shrugging. “Do you not ever put your bag on the floor? ‘Cause like, in the other two classes you had them on the desks, and then you didn’t even take it off during lunch. Like, at all.”

“Oh,” Niall grins, shaking his head. “No, I don’t. I know you’re new but like, have you seen the floors here? Dirty as hell, and my bag is black so I can’t really ignore the dirt when it gets on it. I dunno, Louis says I’m paranoid, but really I’m just a little meticulous.” He shrugs. “Everyone has their thing; mine is not putting my bag on the floor.”

Laughing, Zayn nods. “Good to know.” He fingers the scrap of fabric tied to his own bag, resting in his lap. “I used to not care, you know, but ever since I got this I’ve been a lot more careful.” His cheeks go pink, and he laughs self-consciously. “It’s just cosplay, you know, but I love it.”

The bell rings, interrupting them, and they look to the front of the class where the teacher is pulling up a video. “The guest speaker we were supposed to have today cancelled last minute, so. I’m gonna hand out a worksheet, if you don’t get all the answers don’t worry about it, it’s just extra credit. Just don’t be on your phones.” He sends the worksheets down the rows, and turns the lights off. Grinning, Niall pulls his desk closer to Zayn’s, ducking his head down and waving his hand conspiratorially. Zayn laughs, ducking in too.

“If I’m right, the couple over there in the corner is going to start making out in about five minutes,” he whispers. He grins when Zayn snorts, proud of himself. They chat quietly for the rest of the period, silently high-fiving when Niall is proven right, multiple times, by the aforementioned couple, who kiss every time the teacher looks away. The video is pretty boring and Niall is pretty sure he’s seen it before, just some documentary on macro photography and how it’s helped wildlife photographers get better pictures of like, bugs and stuff. Niall has definitely seen this before. He knows because of that ugly spider.

Ironically, he hates spiders.

When the final bell rings and all the students beginning filtering off campus, Niall nudges Zayn with his elbow. “Hey, so how you getting home?” he asks.

Zayn shrugs. “Supposed to take the bus, but you know how that is. Might just end up taking the train. You?”

Niall grins. “I’m definitely walking home, but if you need a ride Louis drives. He’s gotta pick up his younger sisters in about an hour anyway, so he’s not going home. Might even take you to meet them, if you don’t complain.” He laughs at Zayn’s small grimace. “I know, it’s a lot for your first day, but you’ll be fine. If you don’t wanna take the bus, or ride with Louis, you’re more than welcome to walk with me until we get to the station.” At which point he will find a nice alley to hide in and change, and continue his unpaid part-time job as a friendly neighborhood crime-fighting arachnid-themed boy. As if there was no better way to say that.

“Um, I think—”

“Neil!” Louis yells, appearing suddenly and landing on his back. Niall heard him coming, and he could bear Louis’s weight any day, but he stumbles purposefully because he knows Louis will like it. “What’s up with you two?”

Grinning, Niall nods at Zayn. “Zee here needs a ride. Can’t be bothered to take the bus, now can you?”

Zayn’s eyes go wide when Louis places his focus on him. “I could drive you. Where you headed?”

“Um,” Zayn starts, but Louis takes a look at his watch and swears.

“Never mind, that can come later,” he says, “I’ve gotta pick up Lottie and Fiz now, and then go for the twins. Totally forgot about that field trip the middle school was having today, _shit_.”

Niall laughs. “Alright, well, I gotta go. Denise will kill me if I’m late to pick up Theo again, so I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He begins walking away, backwards, waving at Zayn and laughing again when he just stares back, wide-eyed and stricken as Louis drags him off to his car, babbling in his ear all the while. Once they’re far enough away, he turns and plugs his earbuds in. It’ll be a while before he’s far enough to change inconspicuously. He makes a stop at his usual elotero, making sure to give the man a tip. Roberto always gives Niall an extra serving of whatever he’s ordered for Theo, and he never charges extra. Nice old man.

Speaking of Theo, Niall checks his watch. Daycare won’t be over until six, so he’s got about three and a half hours to get some work done.

Cramming the rest of an empanada in his mouth, he ducks into an alley to get changed.

⦕⎈⦖

He swings past Zayn’s apartment twice before finally making up his mind and landing on the fire escape. It’s half past five, so he hasn’t got much time to spare, but he can’t help himself. He wants to see how well Zayn and Louis got along. Biting his lip, he taps at the window with a knuckle. It only takes a second for the curtain to swish open, and he sees Zayn’s eyes go wide. He scrambles to open the window, almost giving himself a black eye when his hand comes loose from the frame and he hits himself. Niall wants to laugh, but he holds it in. Even he knows his laugh is too recognizable.

When Zayn has finally got the window open, he quickly climbs out to crouch in front of Niall, matching his stance. “Hi,” he breathes.

Niall waves. “How are ya,” he asks, making his voice a little deeper. He considers putting on an accent, but realizes how pointless that would be. Zayn heard his New York drawl yesterday; he’d notice the change.

“I’m—I’m great, now that you’re here,” Zayn’s laugh stutters out of him, and his cheeks go pink. “Um, not that I was like, waiting for you or something. I wasn’t. Waiting. Obviously I didn’t think you’d come back so soon—or ever, really, you’re such a busy guy—person! You’re a busy person and I wouldn’t wanna assume anything—”

“How do you like the suit?” Niall interrupts, holding his arms out wide. He’s cheesing so hard right now, he knows Zayn can probably hear it through the mask.

“Um,” Zayn says, and his eyes flicker over Niall’s body. “Would I be wrong in assuming this is the All-American?”

Niall’s grin grows. “Not wrong at all. It’s the second suit I made; I learned a lot from the first one. A complete mess, honestly.”

Still in shock, Zayn falls backwards, sitting. “It’s, uh. The spider is a lot bigger.”

Looking down so his chin is on his chest, Niall pokes at the logo. He got it 3D printed and then superglued it to the suit, along with his other two suits. “Yeah. I didn’t have enough cash to pay for the larger print a third time around, which is why the other one is so much more smaller.”

This time it’s Zayn who grins. “Probably a lot more expensive than doodling it on with a sharpie, eh?” he asks, a tease in his voice. Niall, wounded, holds a hand to his chest. “That’s right. No one’s forgotten that god-awful onesie you debuted in. I mean, come on. Goggles, really?” Spurred on by Niall’s wounded gasp, he waves a hand, laughing. “And what was over your head, I mean, was that a sock? Your mom’s pantyhose dyed red? Come on, man, how did you even see in that thing?”

“I’ll have you know,” Niall says, voice going high with indignation, “that the original mask and goggles helped me focus when I was in action. These spidey senses, they can be a bit much at times, alright?” He clears his throat, deepening his voice again. “And anyway, I moved on from that quite quickly, 'kay, even I realized that no self-respecting superhero would fight crime in a onesie.”

Zayn’s smile softens. “So you think you’re a superhero? Quite presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“What?” Niall asks, laughing. “No it’s not. It’s what the papers say, and who am I to tell the _New York Times_ that they’re wrong?”

“Well,” Zayn shrugs, leaning back on his hands, legs spread out, foot almost brushing Niall’s, “you could tell the _Daily Bugle_. They hate you.”

Niall groans. “Ugh, don’t tell me about it. God, everything I do with them is criminal. I could save an orphan from a burning building and their headline would read ‘ _Evil Web-Slinger Ruins Tot’s Chance of Reuniting With Dead Parents_ .’” He snorts. “ _I_ hate _them_.”

“They get some pretty decent pictures of you, though,” Zayn says softly, still smiling. His face is bright, like he’s just radiating light. Niall’s a little entranced.

“Yeah, I guess, but it’s only because they pay well,” he says, not really thinking. His eyes go wide, and he glances away, shutting his mouth. Zayn does not need to know about the cameras he'd hidden in certain alleys. Or the super cool motion sensors he installed in them so they'll go off every time he goes near them. Or the few hundred bucks he makes off selling those pictures.

Zayn stays quiet. Niall doesn’t dare look at him, even as he feels the stare of the other boy on the side of his face. It’s silent for so long that Niall almost wants to just fly away. Swing away. Whatever.

“Hey,” Zayn says quietly. Niall looks at him. “I can see your eyes through the, uh,” he waves a hand over his eyes, “the eye pieces.” He scoots closer, biting his lip, until he’s suddenly _very_ close to Niall’s face. So close he can feel his breath through the mask. “I can’t tell what color they are.”

Swallowing hard, Niall nods jerkily. “Good. Can’t have you finding out my secret identity. Not before you at least take me to dinner.”

A slow grin spreads across Zayn’s face, which is still very close to Niall’s, his eyes flitting back and forth between his eye pieces. He’s leaning ever-closer, eyes still searching, and Niall thinks he might actually kiss him when—

“What are you doing?”

Niall jumps back, flipping over and landing on the stairs above them with an arm held out to keep his balance. His heart is racing, and he’s almost pissed at himself for not even noticing when Waliyha walked up to the window. She’s leaning on her elbows, chin resting in her hands. Her hair is in two identical braids, snaking down the sides of her head.

Zayn’s head falls, chin touching his chest.

“Um,” Niall says, mouth dry. “Your brother had something stuck in his eye. I was just—trying to get it out.” He holds up a hand. “With my web.”

Snorting, Waliyha nods, standing up straight. “Yeah, sure.” She turns to Zayn, a hand on her hip. “Mom says to come inside and stop flirting with superheroes.”

Zayn chokes on air at that, head whipping up to stare at his sister. “She did not.”

Waliyha nods. “She did so. Look,” she pulls her phone out of her back pocket and pulls up the conversation with her mother. Zayn makes a sound, snatching the phone out of her hand and pulling it closer to his face. Maybe he just really likes being close to things. “She said I shouldn’t take pictures of you without asking, but she thought it was cute.”

Niall stares at her. “Picture?”

“Wals, why would you send mom a picture?” Zayn snaps, voice going squeaky. At least Niall’s isn’t the only one. “You know how she is with Facebook, she once posted a picture of Don’s first tampon!”

“Ew,” Niall mutters.

“Oh calm down, it wasn’t used,” Zayn says, distracted. He waves the phone at Waliyha. “If she posts this my life will be over!”

Waliyha scrunches her nose at him, irritated. “It’s not that big a deal. Mom has like, four friends on Facebook, and none of them even know how to save a picture, much less share a post. Your weird little arachnid fetish is safe for now.” She glances at Niall. “No offense.”

Niall shrugs. “I mean, you’re not wrong.” He holds up a hand when Zayn looks at him. “About me being weird.”

“ _Anyway_ , mom said you need to come in and help Safaa with her homework. As you read,” she adds, waving her hand at the phone, “on my phone, which I will be wanting back, now. I’m expecting a call and would not appreciate missing it.”

Eyes narrowing, Zayn hands it back to her. “Go,” he says, and she does, but not before winking at Niall. She flounces off, braids swinging over her shoulders.

“Very full of life, isn’t she?” Niall asks. Zayn turns to him, eyes wide.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even notice she was there,” he says. Niall holds up a hand, stopping him.

“It’s fine. Just, uh, get inside before she takes more pictures.” He laughs, shrugging. “It’s really no big deal. Plenty of people spread around pictures like that. It doesn’t seem like your mom actually, like, believed it was me, so I’m safe. Relatively speaking.”

Zayn nods, already climbing back inside his window. He pauses when he’s got one leg in, head popping back out. “Will I ever see you again?” His cheeks go pink, and he quickly adds, “Not that I have to, you know, I was just wondering, since I’ve never really been friends with a celebrity before. Not that you’re a celebrity, or that we're friends, I just—”

“Zayn!” Waliyha yells. He sighs, dropping his head, and swings the rest of the way in. His head comes back out, and he smiles softly. “Stay safe out there, Spider-Man.”

Niall grins. “I’ll try. See you around, Zayn.”

⦕⎈⦖

He’s three minutes late to pick up Theo, and Linda, the owner of the daycare, is not impressed.

“I have my own family I need to get to, Horan,” she snaps while digging through her purse, Brooklyn accent strong as ever. “If I need to wait for you one more time I’m canceling your enrollment, I don’t care how many free meals Denise has given me at that stupid restaurant, you hear me?” She points a stiff finger at him, and her nail brushes his nose. Eyes wide, Niall stares down it and nods. “Good. Now you tell Denise I’m looking forward to meeting her for dinner tomorrow. Good night, Niall.”

She walks off, leaving Theo and Niall standing on the street. It’s still light out, and they live pretty close to here, so he quickly twirls Theo and starts walking them home.

“So how was your day?” he asks, sing-songy.

Theo shrugs, pulling on Niall’s hand. “Dunno, was alright.”

Niall raises a brow. “You don’t know, or it was alright?” Theo shrugs again. Frowning, Niall pulls them to a stop and kneels down in front of him. Passersby mutter to themselves, irritated about having to move one whole foot out of their way to avoid them. “Hey. What’s up, kid?”

Twirling side to side, Theo shrugs again, looking down at his hands. “Mary said I’m an orphan.” He looks up at Niall, big blue eyes shining. “Am I an orphan?”

Heart breaking—absolutely _shattering_ , more like—Niall runs his hands over Theo’s shoulders. “Hey, hey, hey, no way, kid, listen to me; you are not an orphan, okay? You still have your mom, right? Your dad might be gone, but you’ve still got someone, you hear me?” He pulls Theo into a hug when he nods, not looking totally convinced. “What does Mary know, anyway, huh? Mary lives with her _grandma_. Her stinky old grandma who has to take her teeth out every night.”

“Ew,” Theo giggles, pulling away. His nose wrinkles. “Mary’s mean.”

“I agree,” Niall says, standing again. His knee cracks loudly, leftover damage from one of his first fights with the Goblin, but he ignores it, steering Theo towards the apartment again.

“That’s what we call her, you know,” Theo says. “Meanie Mary, because when we play she’s really mean and—and whenever we have to sit for reading time no one wants to sit with her so that’s why she’s mean, because no one wants to be her friend.” He looks up at Niall and nods sagely.

Smiling fondly, Niall runs his hand over Theo’s hair. “Maybe Mary just needs a friend, huh?”

Theo’s face scrunches up while he thinks, and Niall has to steer him so he doesn’t run into anyone. When he comes to a conclusion, he shrugs.

“Nah.”

⦕⎈⦖

They’re sitting at lunch the next day when Zayn’s phone buzzes, falling off the bleacher. Niall catches and hands it back in one move, not even looking away from his calc homework. Why did he take AP, honestly. Zayn murmurs a quiet thanks and he hums, biting his lip as he works out a problem.

“NEIL,” Louis yells, mouth on Niall’s ear. Niall shouts, head jerking away and throwing his balance off so he falls into the footwell where he was sitting. He legs get tangled underneath the row he’d been using as a table and he groans, hand pressed to his ear. Everyone freezes, then simultaneously bursts into laughter, loud enough that some other groups look over at them.

A hand on Niall’s shoulder distracts him from the ringing in his ear, made worse by the raucous laughter surrounding him. When he looks up it’s Zayn, eyes filled with worry as he crouches over him. _Are you okay_ , he mouths. Or says, who knows. Niall’s still a little disoriented. He nods, letting Zayn pull him back up. Instead of going back to his original seat, though, Zayn settles right behind Niall, knees bumping gently into his back. Niall pretends not to notice.

“What, Lewis?” Niall asks, rubbing his ear one last time. Louis squints, displeased at the name, but speaks anyway.

“Was just wondering if you were down for Friday,” he says, shrugging. “We were gonna go bowling, maybe back to Harry’s mansion if his dad is out—”

“It’s a _penthouse_ , Louis, not a _mansion_ —”

“—and maybe even sleepover if everyone’s good with it,” Louis finishes, ignoring Harry, who pouts. Poor Harry.

Niall shrugs. “I dunno, man, a lotta crime goes down on Friday nights, and—” he cuts himself off as everyone —except Zayn —groans, arms or heads thrown dramatically.

“What?” Zayn says, genuinely confused. “It’s a pretty valid concern. It’s New York, guys, it’s a pretty dangerous place.”

Eleanor snickers. “First off, sheriff’s boy, this is just Queens, and it’s significantly less dangerous than being in the center of New York City. Second off, just because Friday is when more crime is committed doesn’t mean we’re going to get caught up in it.”

Brows raising smoothly, Zayn rests his folded arms on his knees. “First off, it’s captain, not sheriff, and second off, we’re much more likely to if we decide to go out. Especially to a crowded area such as bowling.”

Harry, ever the pacifier, jumps in. “What if we just go straight to mine?” he suggests. “We have a screening room and a personal gym, but I’m sure I could pull some strings and get us some bowling stuff. Like, pins and balls and special flooring so my dad doesn’t kill me for ruining his floor.”

Niall glances between Zayn and Eleanor, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He can’t tell who’s set off his spidey sense, but one of them has a little too much hostility in them right now for him to feel comfortable. There’s really only one way to fix that.

“If we do that then I’m totally down,” he says quickly, running a hand over his arm. “That way we won’t even have to deal with the crowds at the alley and we’ll actually be able to hear each other, you know?”

“I’m down,” Liam says, shrugging. Niall honestly forgot he was even there, he’s been so quiet this whole time. Niall cranes his neck to see his laptop screen. Oh. He should definitely be doing that instead; AP Bio is no joke. “Might be late, though, Ruth wants to go out for dinner.”

Sensing an out, Zayn relaxes his posture and turns to Liam. “Who’s Ruth?”

Liam shrugs, still focused on his project. “Older sister. Got two, but the other one is away at college. Ruth was, too, but she took a break for her ‘mental health,’” he holds his hands up for air quotes, rolling his eyes. “Really she was just looking for an excuse to skip class.”

Louis snorts. “I would never do that, man. Come home when you don’t need to? Pass. I don’t even want to go to a college in New York, man, take me to fuckin’ LA or something.” Niall smiles, small. Louis is always going on about how much he would prefer to live anywhere else over living in New York. “The fucking snow here is the worst. LA doesn’t have snow. LA doesn’t even get cold.”

“I dunno, Cali is a little too stuck up for me,” Niall muses. “It’s like, everyone there thinks they’re so cool because they have, like, Coachella and Hollywood and beaches, when Coachella is just another festival, Hollywood is basically just an idea now, and it takes like five hours just to get to the beach anyway. You’re not special.”

They bicker over the pros and cons of living in California for the rest of lunch, and Niall is happy to see that Zayn and Eleanor have calmed down. It was very stressful, having to sit there and pretend he couldn’t tell that they both wanted to keep snapping at each other. He’s not sure what really went wrong there, to be honest. They seemed fine until that moment.

He pulls Zayn aside before they separate, a small smile on his face. “Listen, Eleanor just likes proving that she’s right. Louis is exactly the same, you know; it’s why they’re so perfect together.”  
  
Nodding, Zayn shoves his hand into his pockets. “Yeah, I get it. It’s just—my dad has gone through a lot to make sure my sisters and I know that we’re safe, you know? So we can protect ourselves when we’re out—there.” He juts his chin at some far-off land. “He’s drilled all this information and these statistics into my brain and it’s just, like, I can’t just ignore it, you know. A lot of cops’ kids I know, they like to live on the edge and get themselves arrested just to rile up their parents, but I can’t. Not when my dad has done so much.” Smiling ruefully, he looks down at his feet. “Sorry. You didn’t ask for my life story, I just. I never really had anyone to say that to before.”

Niall grins. “Don’t apologize. There are some things you just can’t keep in, or don’t want to. I get it. And I totally understand all that stuff about your dad, by the way. Mine was the same, super possessive and making sure I knew to be safe at all times and whatnot.”

Zayn’s brows pull together. “Was?” The warning bell rings, and Niall shrugs apologetically.

“I’ll tell you seventh, alright?” He jogs off, not really wanting to get sent to the dean’s for a pass. “See you later!”

⦕⎈⦖

Their photography teacher just has another worksheet for them to do, promising that they’ll get some real work done soon, and Niall scoots his chair closer to Zayn’s again. He props his chin on his hands, grinning cheesily.

“Hello, Zayn,” he says, girlishly. Zayn chuckles, cheeks pinking. Niall likes when his cheeks go that color. It’s cute. Niall’s own cheeks pink a little when he remembers how close they came to kissing only the day before—only the day before, when they still _barely_ knew each other—and he clears his thoughts and throat, grabbing his pencil. “Alright, so what is this.”

“Wait,” Zayn pokes him on the arm. “You were gonna tell me about your dad? I mean, if you want, obviously you don't have to, I just. Was curious, I guess.”

Niall purses his lips, duck-like, and sits back in his seat. “Oh, yeah. Um, he was one of the leading scientists at Stylescorp, the business Harry’s dad owns. It’s why he’s so loaded, by the way. But, um, he and my mom were supposed to fly to like, Switzerland or something and their plane went down. That’s why I live with my sister in-law.” He chuckles self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t—don’t look at me like that, man. Please, it’s not a big deal. Happened ages ago.”

“What happened to your brother? If you don’t mind me asking,” Zayn says quietly. Niall shrugs, staring at his desk.

“We got into an argument one night,” he says, throat suddenly tight. It’s been over a year and he still can’t over it. “I ran off, just cause I was so pissed, you know? And he went after me, like the idiot he is— _was_. Never knew when to leave well enough alone, that’s what I always told him. Never stopped pushing. He found me in some—some alley, or something, and this guy ran into us. Literally ran into us; he was running away from the cops, and he ran into Greg where he was standing, and I guess he panicked or something because he just—shot him.” He ignores Zayn’s quick intake of breath. “He shot Greg and he ran off and by the time the cops caught up Greg was dead.” He scribbles on the desk, needing something to do. “They, uh. They never caught the guy.”

That was what started Niall’s whole crime-fighting obsession. At first he was just seeking justice— _revenge_ , a sneaky voice says in the back of his head—was just trying to make the man who killed his brother pay for his crime, get what he deserved. But then it turned into something more. He realized just how much he could do, stopping accidents, preventing more murders. He thinks Greg would be proud of him, for letting the issue go. Greg was the king of holding grudges, but he always would let one go if it meant Niall would, too. Always said that Niall was too good of a person to hold a grudge.

He realizes how quiet Zayn has gotten, and he laugh, bright and fake. “But it’s not a big deal, really. I’m fine, and so is Denise, even little Theo is all good, so it’s fine. I’m _fine_.” He stares at Zayn, still smiling, trying to force it into his brain. After a moment, Zayn nods.

“Alright. Thank you for telling me,” he says. “And—I’m sorry. I know it’s probably tiring to hear that, but I am.”

Niall shrugs, finally getting around to scribbling his name on his worksheet. “S’alright. You’re not the first, won’t be the last. It’s a, what’s the word, occupational hazard.” He grins brightly, poking Zayn with his pencil, and draws a quick smiley on Zayn’s paper. “Now let’s get this done so we don’t end up with even more homework. I swear to god, Warren is trying to break our backs with this.”

⦕⎈⦖

Niall has a rule. Well, he has many rules, but the most important rule is to not let himself get distracted during a fight. Sure, he’s usually just dealing with the kind of guys who snatch purses and raid corner stores, but still. Being distracted can lead to someone getting hurt, and he can’t let that happen. So it’s a bit irritating when he finds himself flying out of a window and across a street in the middle of traffic, still thinking about the way Zayn’s eyes had looked when he’d said sorry.

He hits a light pole with a grunt, bracing himself when he falls. He hears the Green Goblin cackling, and the whir of his glider as he flies closer.

“You could join me, you know, Spider-Man,” he says. “Then I wouldn’t have to destroy you.”

Grimacing, Niall gets to his feet, placing his hands on his hips. He holds up a finger and bends over, trying to catch his breath. When he finally feels like he’ll be able to speak again, he straightens. “Nah.”

He can’t see the Green Goblin’s face, mostly because of his mask, but he figures the man is not impressed. He holds his hand up, palm out.

“Listen, it’s a tempting offer, I just,” he shrugs, “I’m not really into murder. Or attempted murder, or bank robbing, or any of that stuff really. I’m a law-abiding citizen, you know, even if I’m not very well liked by law enforcement.”

Hissing, the Goblin spins on his glider, pointing at the building they’ve just come out of. “I’m doing this city a service, boy. Those men—” he points to the building behind him, where he’d just tried to kill some CEO of some company “—are the real criminals, not the petty drug dealers you toss in prison every day.”

Niall shrugs. “I dunno, drug dealing seems pretty illegal to me.”

“Listen to me!” the Goblin yells. “With your help, I could rid the city of these men, the ones who would steal money from the people of New York in the name of _research_ , the very ones who would take your father’s discovery and call it their own!”

Hands dropping to his sides, Niall takes a step back. He’s glad for his mask, not for the first time, since it hides his surprise. He swallows hard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Goblin, sir, but I’m getting kind of tired, and it’s past my curfew anyway, so let’s get this over with, shall we?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he shoots at the Goblin with both hands, covering his mask. Yanking on the excess string, he pulls himself off the ground and aims a well-placed kick to the Goblin’s face, sending him flying. His glider rights him, and he throws one of his grenades at Niall. It explodes in the air between them, and by the time the blast has disappeared, the Goblin has attempted to make an escape.

Sighing, Niall shoots a web at the nearest building and follows him. The Goblin doesn’t attempt anything as they travel, which strikes Niall as odd, before he realizes where the Goblin is taking them. They’re flying down 59th street, towards Queens Center. Niall quickly tries to come up with a way to get the Goblin off this path, where there are too many shoppers to make Niall comfortable about fighting anyone.

He hasn’t come up with anything suitable by the time they’ve reached the center, so Niall prepares to take a lot of hits in the name of protection.

They swing around the corner of the Cheesecake Factory, where a couple of families are pouring out, and Niall shouts out a warning when he sees the Goblin dive right for them. They look up, screaming when they realize what’s happening, and try to run, but in the confusion the Goblin manages to snatch up a young man. Niall groans, a strangled _aaagghhh_ when the Goblin flies up a lot higher than Niall can go, given the current height of the buildings surrounding him. He does his best, though, creating a slingshot between two buildings and launching himself into the air just as the Goblin drops the boy. Niall can hear the boy screaming, and he winces, hoping that the kid isn’t afraid of heights.

“I’ll get you one day, Spider-Man!” the Green Goblin yells. “You’ll join my side eventually!”

“I doubt it!” Niall calls up at him, arms stretched out for the boy. It’s only when they collide—jarringly so, to where the boy gets his scream punched out of him by the sheer force—that Niall realizes he knows this boy.

It’s Zayn fucking Malik.

He can’t give it a second thought before they’re careening back to the ground, and Niall knows even he wouldn’t survive that fall. He looks around quickly, and finds a building with a gravel roof. He shoots a web at it and pulls, hoping they’ll actually hit the roof and not the side of the building. If they hit the side he’ll just have to aim for glass and hope there’s a floor very close. Zayn is wrapped up in Niall, head tucked into his shoulder, no longer screaming. Niall would be worried that he’d passed out or something, only he’s shaking so hard Niall doesn’t think he’d even have the chance to.

They land on the roof, first with Niall hitting the ground—thankfully he absorbs the impact enough that it leaves little room for Zayn being hurt—and then rolling with the force of the fall. Niall makes sure they land on his back, again; these rocks hurt like hell, and Zayn has gone through enough without adding that on. Groaning, Niall lets his head fall onto the ground.

Zayn is still shaking, breathing heavily, and he doesn’t move from where Niall’s arms are wrapped around him, his hands clenched into the front of his suit. He keeps his head tucked into Niall’s neck, and if it weren’t for the very-not-intimate setting, Niall would be a lot happier right now. As it were, he should probably try to get Zayn to calm down before taking him back to his family.

“Hey,” he says, voice hoarse, “you alright?” Zayn doesn’t answer. Grimacing, Niall lifts his head again, looking down at him. “Zayn. Are you okay?” He gives him a little nudge. “C’mon, man, answer me.”

Zayn nods. That’s it, but it’s something.

“Alright,” Niall murmurs, gently moving them into a sitting position. Zayn doesn’t let him go, which makes it a little awkward, but he manages it, maneuvering Zayn onto his lap. He wrap his arm around Zayn’s shoulders and rests his chin on his head. “We can chill for a bit, but your family is probably freaking out. We should get you back to them.”

Still not speaking, Zayn shakes his head.

“No?” Niall asks softly. Zayn shakes his head again. “Hey, listen. I know that was scary, and I know that this sort of thing doesn’t happen everyday, but we need to get you back to your parents. The cops are probably gonna wanna talk to you, especially if your dad’s on the force. As much as I would like to, we can’t stay up here forever.”

“Wanna bet?” Zayn mutters, and it’s not _exactly_ the response Niall was hoping for, but at least he’s talking now. It’s even better when Zayn pulls back, brows pulled together. “How did you know about my dad?”

Brows raising, Niall doesn’t answer for a long moment. Zayn’s eyes start to narrow, and his fingers start creeping towards the edge of his mask. Gently grabbing his hand, Niall pulls it away. “I listen to the police scanners and I do my research. How else am I supposed to know when someone’s in trouble? My spidey sense?”

Snorting, Zayn pulls away completely, so he’s left in Niall’s lap with his hands in his own. “God, that was terrifying.” He shakes his head when Niall makes a noise deep in his throat. “No, like. Not even because I was just snatched up by some creep; I’m just really scared of heights.”

Niall can’t help it. He laughs. He claps a hand over his mouth as soon as it’s out, but Zayn gives him a betrayed look anyway, starting to crawl out of his lap.

“No, no, come on,” Niall laughs, wrapping his arms around Zayn to keep him there, “I’m sorry, okay, it’s just. Most people would be more scared of the fact that the city’s most notorious villain snatched them rather than the fact that were snatched into the air. It’s not funny, I swear. Look, I’m not even laughing anymore.”

Sighing, Zayn stops fighting and flops over Niall’s legs, head resting on the gravel beneath them, all dramatic-like. Niall gently lifts his head, makes a small cushion out of web for him.

“I feel like I might pass out,” Zayn says quietly.

Shrugging, Niall leans back on his hands. “I mean, it’s a perfectly appropriate response. I passed out the first time I got shot.” He winces. “Well. I threw up, then passed out.”

“You’ve been _shot_?” Zayn cries, turning his head to look up at Niall, who shrugs again.

“Occupational hazard, I guess,” he says, and his eyes widen a beat before Zayn’s do. That’s the second time he’s said something similar to his other— _persona_ , whatever.

Taking a shaky breath, Zayn lifts a hand and slowly trails it up Niall’s chest, to the small overlap of cloth where suit meets mask. Eyes closing, Niall resigns himself to being found out, when the door to the roof slams open, voices following. Zayn snatches his hand away, and in the moment just before the cops, trailed closely by his family, reach him, Niall has placed him on his feet and leaped off the side of the building. He hears Zayn’s shout of concern, and the last thing he sees before he’s swung too far away is Zayn standing at the edge of the roof, hands on the railing, staring after him.

Then he almost crashes into another building, so he focuses on the road.

⦕⎈⦖

“You _have_ to tell us what happened, Zayn!” Louis whines during first period the next day, ignoring Ms. Warren’s glares. “You can’t just almost-die and not tell us anything, it’s not fair.”

Zayn shrugs, toying with the strip of mask on his bag, avoiding Niall’s gaze. Which isn’t that hard to do, considering the fact that Niall is focusing very hard on the notes on the board. Very hard. Not listening to Louis complain at all.

“Was a bit traumatizing, man, and I’m gonna have to tell the story again during lunch, so why waste my breath?” he mumbles, halfheartedly writing his name on his paper. Niall chews on his thumbnail, trying not to be pulled into the conversation by Louis.

Lot of good that does him.

“I bet you’ll tell Niall during third,” Louis whispers, eyeing Warren as she starts heading their way. “Fine, but you are definitely telling us during lunch, alright?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Something in his voice makes Niall look up at him, concerned, and they make eye contact for two seconds before quickly glancing away.

This is the worst Thursday, ever.

⦕⎈⦖

“Yeah, so otherwise I’m alright,” Zayn finishes, picking at his lunch. “Just, uh, more scared of heights than ever.”

The others coo sympathetically, but Niall can only think of how the night before was his fault, how if he hadn’t let the Goblin fly away he would never have grabbed Zayn.

“What even are the chances, man?” Harry says, voice full of wonder. “I mean, the odds of being the one who gets grabbed out of everyone there that night? It’s almost impossible, when you think about it.”

Zayn shrugs. “Didn’t seem very impossible when it happened, bro.”

Eyes wide, Harry holds out a hand. “No, no, of course not, Zayn, I just mean, like, the possibility of it happening is so low that you’d probably be more likely to get attacked by a shark, you know, and—”

“Harry, this isn’t _Sharknado_ , like,” Liam snorts, shoving a fry in his mouth. “A shark isn’t just gonna magically appear in Queens. I think you got your stats a little screwed up.”

Louis wraps an arm around Harry’s head, reeling him in despite Harry’s protests. “Hey, you can’t blame him for not being right; his little sophomore mind doesn’t fully understand math, yet.”

“Hey!” Harry cries, voice muffled. As the other begin to tease Harry, Niall nudges Zayn’s knee with his elbow. When he gets his attention, he mouths _You okay?_

Zayn shrugs again, giving up on his food and putting it aside. He stands, tilting his head in question. Niall quickly follows him as he wanders off, mostly ignored by the others. When they’re far enough away, Zayn turns on Niall, arms crossed and brows pulled together.

“Do you wanna bail with me?” he says quietly. Well. Not _exactly_ what Niall was expecting.

He laughs awkwardly, brows pulling together. “Um, what?”

Zayn shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I just, like. I can’t think, and I got so distracted during second period I accidentally ruined some pastels so my teacher chewed me out—”

“Hey,” Niall says, getting close to him. He puts a hand on one of his shoulders, which have scrunched up near his ears with nerves. “Yeah, yeah, if that’s what you want. I mean, if Denise finds out she’ll kill me, but if you’re not feeling well, then. Totally.”

Shrugging again, Zayn nods. “My parents would kill me if they found out, too. Um, hopefully no one finds out, though, right?” He gives a weak smile, and Niall nods, grinning back.

“Only issue, though,” he says. Zayn gives him a curious look. “What are we gonna do, and how are we gonna get there? Neither of us has a car.”

A small grin forms on Zayn’s face, and Niall’s breath catches. “That just makes it more fun, bro.”

⦕⎈⦖

They end up sneaking out through the student parking lot, circling back around the school to head to the bus stop. Niall suggests stopping for something to eat, but Zayn disagrees, saying he has no cash. Niall pouts. It really sucks being a broke, jobless teenager sometimes.

Well. _Technically_ he has a job, but it’s not the type he can really just demand payment for. He’s not, like, Tony Stark or Steve Rogers. Even Thor gets paid royalties, and he’s a freaking god, but it’s because everyone knows who they are. But Niall can’t let that happen, and so he stays a broke high schooler.

Eventually Niall’s hunger wins out over his rationality, and he leads Zayn to his apartment so they can eat and maybe just hang out until he has to get Theo. He feels like Zayn would enjoy some chill time, so. He shouldn’t mind.

When they get there, Niall quickly realizes how different their two homes are. As Niall leads Zayn through the cramped, dingy hallway to his door, he thinks about how different it must be, going into Zayn’s the _right_ way. Even his door gives him a little secondhand embarrassment, faded and dusty with errant scuff marks from the kids next door who never stop using their skateboards in the hall no matter how many times Denise yells at them. It gets even worse when the door sticks, refusing to open until Niall pulls back and, with an awkward laugh in Zayn’s direction, rams his shoulder into it. He checks back to see if Zayn is disgusted, but he’s just a curious little smile on his face.

The living room is small, with only a short bar separating it from the kitchen, and they don’t even have a dining room. They eat dinner on the couch, usually, Theo sits at a smaller plastic table in the corner. It’s so...not like Zayn’s apartment that Niall wants to throw his arms over everything and cover it up. Which bothers him because like, he’s had friends over before, and been to their homes before, and he’s never felt this way. Even when he had Harry freaking Styles over, heir to the biggest research company in the _state_ , he didn’t feel this way. And Harry has a mansion for a penthouse.

He clears his throat, scratching at his ear as he tosses his bag onto the coffee table. Zayn does the same.

“Um, so it’s not much, but like, it’s home, you know,” he says, not making eye contact. All he can think about is how there’s a faint scent of mac and cheese lingering in the air, since it’s the only thing Theo ever wants when he gets home, and how there’s a small tear in the screen of the sole picture window, from where the pigeons like to peck at it, and Denise forgot to tell him that she’d gone to the laundromat _again_ so now his underwear is lying right on top of a basket of clothes in the corner, four leaf clovers very noticeable against their white background.

But Zayn apparently doesn’t notice any of this, because he just grins, tongue tucked behind his teeth, and nods.

“It looks so cozy, bro. Like, lived in, you know?” he wanders around the room, fingering the frames hanging on the walls, sitting on the shelves, surrounding the tv. Denise always was too sentimental, especially after Greg—well. She has a right, Niall supposes. “We finished unpacking our last box three weeks ago and it still feels like someone else’s house. But this, this is nice, you know? Feels right.” He drops down onto the couch, right onto the spot where Niall _knows_ a spring is sticking out, and he doesn’t even wince. “It’s great.”

Cheeks burning, Niall stutters out a weird laugh. It sounds foreign even to his ears, like it’s not his. Clearing his throat to cover it up, he heads to the kitchen, hoping it’s still stocked from their last grocery run. He finds various things; Theo’s neverending stash of mac and cheese, cereal, some waffles, pizza from the other day. None of it seems good enough to offer to Zayn, though, he sighs and fingers the array of takeout menus on the fridge door. Maybe if he sneaks some cash from Denise’s room—no. That’s not right. He sighs again, pulling the pantry door open in a vain attempt to see something he hadn’t before.

He’s so focused on trying to find something good enough to offer Zayn that he doesn’t even notice when he comes up behind him, puts a hand on Niall’s waist, and says, “Ooh, mac and cheese, can we have that?”

Niall jumps so high he’s surprised Zayn’s hand doesn’t fall off his waist. When he turns, Zayn is biting back a smile.

“You good, bro?” he asks. Niall chokes out a laugh, nodding, and pulls the box of pasta out of the pantry.

“Yeah, you just scared me, is all,” he says. He can feel his cheeks turning red again, and it’s more than a little annoying. He’s just put off because his apartment feels too small, for the first time ever, and he doesn’t know how to deal with that. He’s never felt out of place in his own home. And not even in a bad way, like. Having Zayn in his space is just setting him off for some reason.

Which is so weird, because it’s Zayn, it’s _just_ Zayn. Zayn, his new best (maybe) friend who he has class with and who laughs at his jokes and who helped Niall the day before when Louis screamed in his ear and who almost kissed him on his fire escape just two days ago—

Oh. Oh no. This can’t be happening.

Niall holds a sigh in, setting the pasta to cook, and turns to Zayn, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “So, um, tell me to shut up if you want, but like...what was it like, meeting Spider-Man?” Because he’s a masochist, of course.

Grinning, Zayn hops onto the counter by the sink and swings his legs, careful so his feet don’t hit the cabinets. You know, like a gentleman. “God, man, it was so surreal. He—he’s so cool, you know? Like, I was falling, and he just—caught me. Like nothing. And then when we fell on that roof, he didn’t just brush me off and send me on my way, you know, he—” he cuts off, giving Niall a shrewd look. Niall shrinks into the counter. “You won’t tell anyone if I tell you something, right?”

Brows pulling together, Niall nods. “Yeah, no, of course. My lips are sealed.”

Zayn narrows his eyes. “Even Louis?”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Yes, even Louis.”  
  
Nodding approvingly, Zayn lets a small smile creep onto his face. “He held me,” he says, hushed. “Like, he let me have a meltdown right there in his lap, and he _held_ me, and I’ve had boyfriends before, okay, but it’s never felt like that.” Niall carefully tucks that into a corner of his mind, nodding to get Zayn to keep talking. “I just. I dunno, man. He’s not as old as they say he is, I can _tell_ , because when we met the first time—” he slams his mouth shut, eyes going wide, hands folded in his lap, and Niall’s brows raise.

“The first time?” he asks, like he doesn’t know. You know, like a liar.

Grimacing, Zayn slumps his shoulders. “Okay, now you really have to promise not to tell.” Niall mimes zipping his lips. “Um, so you remember the first day we met, when I said that piece of material on my bag is from cosplay? And that Spider-Man landed on the fire escape across the street from mine?” Niall nods slowly. “I lied. He landed on _my_ fire escape, because he hit his head in a fight with the Green Goblin, so I brought him into my house and I patched him up, but he told me I had to cut the mask so he wouldn’t have to take it off, but he didn’t ask for the cloth back so I just—I kept it, you know, and then earlier this week he landed on my fire escape _again_ but he wasn’t hurt, I think he actually wanted to see me because we talked, you know, and we—” he smiles, small, down at his hands. “I think we almost kissed?”

Brows jumping ever higher, Niall snorts. “You _think_?”

“I dunno, I mean,” Zayn laughs, scratching at his neck. “We got really, uh, close, you know, and it was just. My sister came in and interrupted so whatever might have happened never did but. I think it would have.”

And there’s that smile again, the secret one that’s a little odd, like Zayn doesn’t even know he’s put it on. Niall stares at him, realizing for the first time that Zayn _really_ likes Spider-Man, and for some reason he finds himself thinking that of all people, he has to be competing with his secret identity. Who is a superhero.

Running a hand through his hair, Niall turns to the pasta, pouring it into a small pot Denise must have forgotten to put away. He nudges the tap on, letting the water rise, and he’s staring at it, trying to figure out how to just—tell Zayn.

“It sounds _so_ stupid, I know, but,” Zayn laughs breathlessly, shaking his head. “I think he likes me?”

Swallowing hard, Niall plasters on a grin and sets the pasta to cook. “Nah, man, doesn’t sound stupid. I knew that rag on your bag was too well made to be cosplay. You’re, uh, you’re really lucky, man. I would love for a superhero to take an interest to me, honestly. Like, Black Widow could get it any time.”

Zayn’s grin falls a smidge, and Niall bites his lip.

“I mean,” he crosses his arms, scratches at his neck. “So could, like, Thor, you know. Any of them, really. Except, um, Vision, because I’m not really down with fucking a robot.”

Zayn bursts into laughter, and all the tension leaks out of Niall’s body. So maybe he won’t tell Zayn yet. He can wait for like, prom, have an epic promposal that Zayn _can’t_ say no to. It’ll be fine.

He hopes.

⦕⎈⦖

They spend the afternoon eating on the couch with their feet up on the table, something Denise likes to pretend she doesn’t approve of but does when Theo isn’t looking. They watch The Office on Netflix on Niall’s old laptop he found in a dumpster, working almost perfectly despite a cracked screen. They don’t really pay much attention to the show, chatting aimlessly about school and what their plans are after they graduate, and it’s all going fine until Niall has to open his big fat mouth.

“If, like, I were Jim, I would have went after Pam ages ago,” he says, chasing a macaroni around his bowl, not really thinking about it. “Especially, like, if she looked like—like you? Hell yeah.”

He looks up when Zayn doesn’t answer to find him staring, eyes wide. His cheeks go hot as he blushes.

“Um,” he says, “I just mean, like, from an objective point of view, you know. Not like.” He swallows. “You know.”

Zayn licks at his lips, and Niall’s eyes track the movement. His blush deepens when he sees that Zayn has noticed. Clearing his throat, he brings his feet down and leans forward to put down his bowl, rushing to explain himself.

“Listen, I was just saying, you know, you’re attractive,” he says quickly. “Even Louis has said he’d date you, and he’s pretty straight, so.” He turns back to see Zayn sitting forward, too, still staring at Niall. He sighs. “Please forget I said anything, man. I’m not trying to, like, make you uncomfortable—“

“Do you wanna go to dinner sometime?” Zayn asks, interrupting. Niall’s mouth goes dry. “Like—like as a date. If you want, otherwise it can just be dinner, you know.”

A laugh bursts out of Niall, and he nods. “Yeah, yeah course.” He grins, running his hands over his face (which must be so red right now) and then up through his hair. “Ugh, thank god you asked because I literally never would have.” He pauses, biting his lip. “Is this weird? That it’s been barely a week and I already have, like, a huge crush on you?”

Shrugging, Zayn laughs. “I dunno, man. Doubt it, though. People in movies fall in love after three minutes, so I think a crush after a few days is reasonable. Especially if it’s reciprocated.” His own cheeks go pink, and he laughs again to himself, shaking his head. “Do you, um, have a bathroom? Or like, obviously you have a bathroom, but can I use it? Like where is it?” His cheeks redden even further at the silly question, and Niall nods, laughing, and directs him down the hall. Once he hears the door shut he whips his phone out, sending a string of emojis—an alien, two wide-eyed faces, a skull—to the groupchat. Which they should probably add Zayn to. He freezes when the hairs on his arm stand up, followed almost immediately by the blare of sirens outside the window. He groans to himself. Of all the possible times for some asshole to get busy. He checks the time, swearing; it’s not late enough to pretend he needs to pick up Theo, and he can’t come up with anything else to convince Zayn to stay while he handles this really quick.

Just as he’s figured out a very-weak-but-hopefully-viable lie, Zayn comes out of the bathroom, brows pulled together as he stares at his phone.

“Um,” he says, “my mom just texted saying I need to come home right now. Apparently my dad is in trouble and she wants to make sure we’re all safe.” He rolls his eyes, embarrassed. “Ever since last night, you know, she’s gotten really paranoid and whatever. I’ll, um, see you later, I guess?”

Exhaling, Niall nods. “Yeah, um, let me just walk you out, yeah?” He makes sure to quickly grab his suit out of his bag—the one he was wearing when he first met Zayn, the mask newly fixed—while Zayn is turned around, and follows him down to the entrance of the building. “Will you be fine getting home on your own, or do you want an escort?” He grins teasingly, and Zayn gives him a little shove.

“I’ll be fine, bro. Thanks, though.” He bites his lip, looking up at Niall through his lashes, and he darts in for a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Niall breathes out, smiling softly. “Remember to bring stuff for Harry’s, after school. Louis said we’re all gonna go straight there, except for Liam.”

Nodding, Zayn gives him a little wave and walks off. He glances back at Niall twice before he runs into someone and doesn’t look back after that. Smothering a laugh, Niall rushes into the maintenance closet and gets dressed.

⦕⎈⦖

He doesn’t make a very good first impression when he meets Zayn’s dad.

It’s not his fault, exactly, but he doesn’t think Captain Malik will care too much either way. Honestly, how was he supposed to know that the driver of the getaway car _also_ had a gun? Why would the driver have a gun? He’s supposed to be _driving_ . So it’s not Niall’s fault when, by a stroke of luck, the driver shoots at Niall, but hits the passenger window of Captain Malik’s squad car instead. It is also not his fault when the driver decides to ram his car into the cop car to shake Niall off. He’s not _asking_ the guy to do this stuff, alright?

He has to jump off the getaway car and onto the roof of the squad car to avoid getting smashed, but his landing is so shaky that he rolls over and hangs off the driver side. He knocks on the window and waves to the captain, who’s got a scowl on his face and doesn’t even bother looking at Niall. Rude.

Sighing, he hauls himself onto the roof of the car, crouching with an arm extended for balance. The getaway car has sped up so it’s in front of the squad car now, and it’s got three people in it, two in front and one in back, and a load of junk in the backseat with them. Niall thinks it’s stolen stuff. Well. Considering they’ve got the captain of the NYPD chasing them, it’s definitely stolen stuff.

An idea forms in Niall’s mind, and even though it’s a bad one he figures it’s their best shot at getting these guys.

He waits until the squad car is close enough to launch himself onto the roof of the getaway car, shouting when it swerves to get him off. Crawling to the back, he quickly opens the door and slides into the car, ignoring the shouts of the three men as they realize what’s happened. It’s harder to dodge bullets in such a small space, but he manages it, somehow, until the window behind him is shattered and the seat is riddled with bullets. The rush of wind blowing in through the broken window makes everything louder, but he brushes it off as he darts a hand out and quickly snatches the gun from the hand of the man in the backseat.

Even though he’s never handled a gun—and never had the desire to—he turns it on the man. It’s heavy and awkward in his grip, but he figures he looks pretty intimidating.

“It’s empty, dumbass!” the man yells at him. So maybe not intimidating.

Shrugging, Niall tosses the gun out of the window. “Guess we’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way, then.” He shoots a web into the man’s face, quickly punching in some air holes where his nostrils are so he doesn’t suffocate. Leaping forward, he shoots a web at the passenger door, making sure there’s enough excess to wrap around the man in the passenger seat, effectively trapping him. He also shoots a web at his mouth to shut him up.

When all that’s left is the driver, Niall leans into the space between the two seats and takes a hold of the driver’s knee, lifting his leg off the gas, but he lets go when the man elbows him hard in the back. He grunts as his chest is forced down, a sharp pain in his back leaving him breathless. Gritting his teeth, he webs the man’s hands to the steering wheel, one after the other in quick succession. Not giving up, the man headbutts Niall, sending the car veering to the side and forces spots into Niall’s vision. He shakes his head, trying to regain some sense, when the car suddenly stops, running into a light pole with enough force to send Niall through the front windshield. He covers his head, crying out when he lands on the crushed hood of the car.

Out of breath and unable to move, Niall lies on the hood, curled into himself. His head hurts, his back hurts, and there’s an inexplicable pain in his arm where he _thinks_ he might have missed dodging a bullet. He’s been shot enough times by now that the pain, if his adrenaline is high enough, isn’t registered until after everything is said and done.

He hears the squeal of tires and the quick whoop of a siren, and he knows he has to get out of there soon. He’s just not sure how.

Sighing, he rolls over onto his uninjured side, wincing when the shards of glass from the windshield pierce into his suit. And he _just_ got this one fixed, too. Well, he got the mask fixed. It was the only part that _needed_ fixing, until now.

He can hear the safeties being released on the guns of the officers who have just climbed out of their car, and he looks up to see them pointing their guns at _him_. He holds up his hands.

“Listen, this was not my fault, alright?” he says. He points to the driver, unconscious and half-hidden by a quickly deflating airbag. “If he had just _stopped_ instead of trying to fight me we wouldn’t have crashed.”

Brows pulling together, Captain Malik gestures to his arm. “You’ve been shot.”

Niall salutes him. “Perceptive. Is that why they made you captain?”

Rolling his eyes, the captain gestures to his partner to deal with the criminals in the car, lowering his gun. “We’re getting you an ambulance,” he says, and is reaching for the walkie talkie on his shoulder when Niall webs up the device, effectively stopping anyone from using it. “Excuse me?”

Shrugging, Niall slowly backs up. “Sorry. As a masked, uh, what is it you guys call me, oh yeah— _vigilante_ , I have no medical insurance, so I can’t afford an ambulance. Thanks, though.”

“You could just take off the mask,” Captain Malik says, eyeing his partner, who’s made quick work of cuffing and lining the criminals up on the curb. “Be a lot easier for us all.”

“Well,” Niall says, “maybe for you. But anyway, I gotta get home so I can deal with _this_ ,” he gestures to his arm, “before I bleed out. It was nice meeting you, Captain, I look forward to working with you again.”

He’s turned and is just about to shoot a web at the nearest traffic light so he can swing away when his name is called. Well. Not his _actual_ name.

“Spider-Man,” Captain Malik says. When Niall looks at him, his face is pinched, like saying his name has left a sour taste in his mouth. “I would really like to take a look at your wound, okay? Gunshot wounds are not to be messed with, especially with someone as young as you. Even if we just wrap it up.”

Niall bites his lip, going over the pros and cons. Pro: he won’t have to stitch up his own arm or wait for his accelerated healing to fix the wound on its own. Con: the captain might pull one on him. Pro: his arm hurts, and he’d like to deal with that as soon as possible. Con: the captain might pull one on him.

He sighs, shoulders slumping. “Alright, fine,” he says, but then his phone goes off. He holds up a finger, pulling it out of the front of his suit. It’s Denise, a picture of her and Theo flashing up at him. “One second, it’s my sister.” He turns away, ignoring the unimpressed look Captain Malik sends him, and answers. “Hello?”

“Niall James, why did I get a call from your school informing me you missed half of your classes?” she says, skipping the greeting. Niall grimaces.”What did we say about you skipping class, huh?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Niall holds up a finger to Captain Malik again, who’s trying to unweb his walkie talkie. The captain glowers at him. “I know, Denise, okay, it’s just that Z— _my friend_ wasn’t feeling very well, and he asked me if I could go home with him. He, uh, went through some crazy stuff last night and he couldn’t focus and didn’t, um, want to go home alone, so he asked me. I’m sorry, okay, it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, it better not,” Denise snaps. “I want you home right now, you hear me, and you’re not allowed to go out for two weeks. And I’m taking your police scanner, you little weirdo.”

“Wait, though,” Niall stammers, “we were all supposed to go to Ha— _Haz’s_ , for the weekend. C’mon Denise, I swear after this weekend I’ll be grounded, but we haven’t done anything as a group since the year started. Since the beginning of summer, really, because H was in Venice and Lou and El went to the Hamptons with her family, and I was—you know.” Being weird and avoiding you because I got bit by a spider and started fighting criminals in my down time. “Depressed, or whatever.” He winces, knowing it’s a sore spot for Denise. She’d really been worried about Niall during that time, thinking Niall was reverting back into the same depression he’d fallen into when Greg died.

Denise sighs, a woosh of air that makes Niall hold his breath. “Fine,” she says finally. “But Sunday night you are grounded, you hear me? By nine sharp.”

Niall grins, thanking her profusely before hanging up. He turns back to Captain Malik, shooting him a thumbs up. “Alright, get me some medical attention. I’m not taking off the mask, though.”

He hops onto the back of the police cruiser, beating his heels against the bumper. The captain gives him a funny look, waving over a paramedic. They must have arrived when Niall was on the phone. The woman carefully wipes at the wound to clean it, and cuts away a bigger hole than was created by the bullet.

“You’re lucky,” she says, glancing up at him. “The bullet only grazed you; if it hadn’t we’d have to take you to the hospital.”

Niall hums, trying to distract himself from the pain, and the fact that he’s only just fixed the mask on this suit and now the sleeve is all torn up. He just can’t catch a break. This is his favorite suit, too.

“Well thank god for that,” he says idly, glancing over at the captain, who’s still giving him a curious look. Once the paramedic is done, and his arm is all stitched and wrapped up (his refusal to go to the hospital meant they had to treat him on the back of the cruiser), the captain approaches him, holding up a hand when Niall moves to hop down from the trunk of the car.

“Wait,” he says, placing a hand on his belt. Niall tenses. “Are you alright, other than the wound?” He looks a bit uncomfortable, like he shouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Niall nods. “It’s just—you mentioned something on the phone about being depressed, and I was just wondering. You’re not, like, suicidal or anything, are you? That’s not why you’re doing this?”

A startled laugh stutters out of Niall. “Um, no, sir, I don’t do this because I have a death wish. I’m fine. This has nothing to do with my personal life, I can guarantee that. I, uh, I gotta go, though. My presence has been requested, and I’m already in trouble. Don’t want it to get any worse.”

Captain Malik nods, waving him off as his phone rings. Niall hears him greet a Trisha, and he realizes with wide eyes that it’s Zayn’s mom. He slowly backs away as the captain snaps, “He did _what_?” and shoots a web at the nearest building and swings away.

He thinks Zayn might have just been caught as well.

⦕⎈⦖

When they get to school the next day, they all dump their stuff into Louis’s trunk, not wanting to carry it around all day. He makes a joke about being a pack mule, but shuts up when Liam tells him he’s right, he really is an ass. Neither of them say much after that, but Liam looks quite smug.

The day goes by without incident, except for the one time Niall accidentally spills his water on Louis’s crotch. Accidentally, of course. It has nothing to do with the fact that Louis’s been a jerk all day, since Eleanor won’t be joining them for the weekend—isn’t even at school, because she has an appointment at the orthodontist to get her braces tightened. Louis gets grumpy when Eleanor isn’t around, Niall can’t help it when he gets the urge to bother him.

Louis gives them all a ride to Harry’s place, sans Liam because of the dinner with his sister he has planned. Harry sits in the front, giving directions, and Niall and Zayn sit in the back, glancing at each other awkwardly every now and then. Apparently Zayn got let off the hook quite easily, citing the same reason he’d given Niall for wanting to skip, and his mom felt so bad for him she wouldn’t let his dad punish him this time. She did emphasize _this time_ , though, Zayn had said.

Niall wants to say something about their upcoming date, or really anything, but Louis is sitting right there and he’s so invasive all the time. He may mean the best most of the time, but it gets kind of suffocating.

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Louis says, yelling over the music blaring out of the speakers. “We get to Harry’s, order some food—”

“We could just get Georgina to cook us something,” Harry interrupts, which isn’t the best idea because—

“We _get it_ , Harry, you’re rich as fuck so you have your own cook, shut the hell up,” Louis whines. “I don’t want gourmet pizza, okay, I want shitty New York pizza from a shitty New York pizzeria.”

Niall grimaces. “I don’t want shitty pizza, Louis, come on.”

“I thought we agreed on Chinese, though?” Zayn adds, brows pulling together.

“Oh,” Harry says, “Georgina can make that, too. It won’t be, like, authentic, obviously, but it’s still really good.”

Louis scoffs. “We don’t want gourmet Chinese food, Harry, come on.” He glances at Zayn in the rearview mirror. “And no, Zayn, we said pizza. Come on. _Pizza_.” He winks obnoxiously, almost running a red light because he’s so distracted. Niall snorts.

“I want Chinese now, actually,” he says, winking at Zayn when he smiles at him. Louis groans, turning to Harry.

“Are you going to betray me, too?” he asks.

Shrugging, Harry tilts his head innocently. “I could definitely go for an egg roll right now.”

Louis sulks the whole rest of the way. When they pull onto Harry’s street, Harry directs him behind the building, where a row of garage doors sit. The wall opposite has only two doors, one on each end of the row. Harry pulls a keychain out of his bag, and when he clicks a button on the remote hanging from it the very first door on the opposite side opens, revealing a large empty space. As they slowly enter, Niall can see shelves neatly stacked with various pieces and parts, probably from Harry’s dad’s inventions and experiments. There’s a corner piled with broken pieces, looking as though they were thrown there in a fit of anger. Niall knows how that feels. Took him three days to manufacture his webs, and another week to figure out how to make it so they dissolve after being dispensed. The number of times he’d almost given up is too high to count.

They all pull their stuff out of Louis’s car and follow Harry through a door that takes them to a private elevator bank, hidden away from the main lobby of the building. Piling themselves into the elevator that sits dead center in the row, Harry pushes the only button that isn’t red for emergencies, in its own row and column, with the letter _P_ labeled on it. Niall has to laugh.

“What?” Harry asks, a small pout on his face.

“Nothing,” Niall says, shaking his head, “it’s just, you know, I didn’t think those buttons actually exist, like. Didn’t even know there were elevators that went straight to apartments. Always seemed a little Hollywood to me, you know?”

Harry laughs, shrugging. “Well. Being the heir to one of the biggest companies in the world is pretty Hollywood, too, but you get used to it.” He winks, a crooked smirk adorning his features.

“Whatever,” Louis says, rolling his eyes. “You’re about as far from Hollywood as one can get, Harold, clumsy as you are. Did you know he tripped over his own foot during seventh today? His path was completely clear, and yet he still managed to fall flat on his face. Practically a newborn deer. Hollywood doesn’t want that.”

“Well,” Zayn says, drawing it out. A small smile forms on his face, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Hollywood made quite a bit of cash off Bambi and its sequel, so. Hollywood probably wouldn’t mind a baby deer, as long as it was cute and endearing. Which Harry is, so. You know.” He shrugs, smiling at Niall. “Hollywood would want that.”

Louis makes a face, unhappy with how the conversation has turned against him. “Touche.”

Laughing, they exit the elevator when it _dings_ its arrival. They end up in an airy room, with glossy tile floors, a pair of fluffy armchairs and a table with a fancy vase filled with an expensive looking bouquet of flowers between them. There’s a row of glass doors that lead out onto the balcony—which, from what Niall can tell, may just wrap around the entire apartment—and two more tables in the corners of the room, which house frames. There’s a recent photo of Harry, and one of his dad standing in front of a newly erected Stylescorp building. Niall raises a brow at Harry, like _really, bro?_ , but Harry just shrugs again.

There are three sets of doors leading further into the apartment, one on each side and then another on the wall with the elevator (which there are two of!). Harry turns left and leads them through the door, and Niall has to physically stop himself from letting his jaw drop.

It’s huge.

His entire apartment could fit into the living room _alone_ , and he can see New York’s skyline through the floor to ceiling windows lining the far wall, making up the entire wall. There’s a huge—like, _huge_ —flat-screen television in front of the windows, with a smooth black table holding all the different cables and boxes and looking as sleek as one of the Black Widow’s suits. Niall almost has an aneurysm at the thought. He actually compared something to _the_ Black Widow.

Grinning like he knows exactly what Niall is thinking, Harry waves them on silently. He leads them through a short hall, turns right, down another hall, and takes them through another door on the left, which turns out to be his room. Which is...also bigger than Niall’s apartment.

(Not really, but it’s bigger than his living room, which is bigger than his room, so. It’s pretty big.)

Louis whistles, impressed. “Honestly, I don’t even need to see the rest of the apartment to say it. Harry,” he turns to him bodily, standing stiffly as if greeting a commanding officer, “you are one rich motherfucker.”

Harry bursts into laughter, tossing his bookbag onto his bed—which Niall cringes at but tries to mostly ignore—and falling onto a bean bag by the window. Which is also floor to ceiling.

“I’m not the rich motherfucker, my dad is,” Harry says, pulling his phone out. He pouts at the screen when he lights it up, then reaches over to where his charger is trailing on the floor and plugs it in, leaving his phone on the floor by his feet. Niall lets him and Louis argue over how _only people who are rich as fuck say that Harry shut the fuck up_ and drops his own bags onto the floor, turning in a small circle.

Harry has posters of his favorite artists and actors and others forming an explosive collage on the walls above his bed, but it’s like that’s the only space he can taint because not one corner of a piece of paper bleeds over the invisible line created by the frame his mattress sits on. His desk, which sits against the wall at the foot of his bed, is neat and orderly, with his textbooks in order and his pen and pencils all organized neatly in a little cup. The wall above it has a map of the world, with certain states and countries colored in different colors. Almost all of the U.S. is green, along with select countries in Europe and Asia, where the rest of the world is either yellow, blue, or red. The space where his television sits, with its own entertainment center—complete with every gaming system Niall can name, a DVD player, radio, and expensive-looking speakers—is clean and organized. Niall almost laughs when he sees that Harry’s bookshelf is organized by color, a neat rainbow filling the entire space.

It’s like Harry only uses his bed.

Niall comes out of his reverie when Zayn nudges his arm, and Niall turns to see the same look of awe on his face. He grins.

“It’s almost as cool as the Avengers Tower, eh?” he asks. Zayn laughs, shaking his head.

“No way,” he says. “The Avengers Tower is an entire _building_ of cool shit, bro, this is just one apartment.”

“Excuse me,” Harry scoffs, holding up a finger. “ _Penthouse_.”

He squawks when Louis tackles him, and as they wrestle Niall turns back to Zayn.

“Wanna explore while these two try to kill each other?” he asks. Grinning, Zayn nods.

“Definitely.”

⦕⎈⦖

After the high wears off, Niall and Zayn discover that, while grand, Harry’s apartment isn’t actually that interesting. The elevator bank opens into the gallery, which takes them to the living room, the dining room, or a short hallway that connects to the one Harry’s room is in. From the hallway off the living room they can go to the library or the hall that leads one to all four bedrooms, depending on whether they turn left or right. If they go to the dining room instead there’s a smaller area with a breakfast nook off at the end of the room, which leads them to the den, which has been converted into a screening room, complete with two rows of chairs that look like they’re straight out of a movie theater. The den can take one out to the terrace or into the kitchen—which has yet _another_ dining table, although this one is much smaller than the one in the dining room and looks more used than the one in the breakfast nook. Then, following the hall off the kitchen, they find themselves back in the hall behind the gallery, which takes them to the other four bedrooms.

Niall and Zayn touch everything in every room.

They play with the fancy cutlery that’s been laid out in the dining room for nothing other than decoration, they flip through the family albums in the den and make fun of Harry’s baby pictures, they sneak some snacks out of the industrial fridge in the kitchen, which has clear double doors and could probably fit both of them comfortable inside. The only room they don’t go into is the library, because that has a set of doors that leads into Harry’s dad’s room, and is also Harry’s dad’s private study. Harry says that his dad gets so into his projects sometimes that Harry will hear him talking to himself. Niall can relate.

Eventually they make it back to the screening room, where they discover a bar stocked with all sorts of unhealthy things to eat. They also saw a bar in the hallway behind the living room, but it was full of things like wine and scotch, which they decided to avoid. Zayn’s upbringing has steered him clear of underage drinking and Niall doesn’t feel the effects of alcohol anyway, since his metabolism runs so quickly.

They’re halfway through popping a bag of popcorn—they’re fifth, because they’re trying to fill a bowl they found that could fit a toddler in it—when Louis and Harry come in, looking ruffled and satisfied, in Louis’s case, or put out, in Harry’s. Harry’s cheek is turning red, which Louis triumphantly tells them is his doing. Or, more specifically, his knee’s doing.

“You are menace, Louis,” Zayn laughs, shaking his head. He wraps some ice up in a towel, pressing it gently against Harry’s cheek and following with a laugh when Harry tries to pull away with a wince. Niall swallows down a fit of jealousy, reminded of the time Zayn did that to him, in his bathroom, the first day they met. When Niall almost died because of some asshole in green. The worst part is that it wasn’t even Loki. If it were Loki it would have been worth it. Almost dying, that is.

Niall shakes himself out of his spiral and his teenage angst, pulling the popcorn out of the microwave and adding to the bowl as Louis puts in a new one. He bumps his hip into Niall’s, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

“You know he’s got the hots for you, right?” he asks quietly. Choking on a piece of popcorn, Niall stares at him. It gets a little weird at one point, him just staring at Louis while his eyes water and he tries to hack up the popcorn, but he gets it eventually. Louis hands him a bottle of water he procures out of nowhere, eyeing him warily. Swallowing down half of it in one go, Niall looks over to Harry and Zayn to make sure they’re not paying attention, which they’re not. The two are preoccupied, going through Harry’s extensive film collection to pick which ones they’ll watch for the night.

“He’s got the _whats_ for me?” Niall hisses, aggressively ripping the cling wrap off another bag of popcorn.

Unbothered, Louis adds the most recent bag to the bowl. “The hots, Niall, keep up. That bag should be the last one, I think it’ll be enough.” He shakes the bowl a bit, plucking out a few pieces and tossing them in his mouth. “Want a piece?”

Niall shakes his head, staring at Louis incredulously. “No, Louis, what I _want_ is to know what you’re talking about. Harry does not have the hots for me.”

“Oh for god’s sake, Niall,” Louis tuts. “Not Harry, Zayn. _Zayn_ has the hots for you, dumbass.”

Realization dawning on him, Niall just says “Ohhh. Yeah, I know.” And turns to pull the last bag out of the microwave. He adds it to the bowl, ignoring Louis’s look.

“How do you know?” he asks, insult bleeding into his voice. “You’re the most oblivious person I’ve ever met, bro.”

“Hey,” Niall whines, pouting. “I am not oblivious, okay, sometimes I just need a little hint, okay—”

“Yeah, and that hint usually has to be telling you outright,” Louis says. “Remember when Hailee had a crush on you? She was flirting with you for months last year, bro, and you didn’t get it until she asked you to homecoming _this year_.” He flicks Niall’s ear. “I think that’s oblivious.”

Sucking on his teeth, Niall moves his head away. “Whatever, okay.” He lowers his voice, glancing at Zayn. “Zayn asked me out the other day, when we skipped the rest of classes after lunch.” He shrugs when Louis’s mouth drops. “He came over to mine and he asked me to dinner and I said yes, okay, but it’s nothing because we haven’t even settled on a day or time and we haven’t been alone like that since then.” He shrugs again, this time defensively. “It’s no big deal.”

“Oh my _god_ , Niall,” Louis hisses, punching him. Niall yelps, flinching away, but Louis pulls him back into a hug, squeezing him tightly. “I knew you wouldn’t go all of high school without going on at least one date, I could feel it.” He presses his mouth to Niall’s ear and whispers hotly, “In my _loins_.”

“OKAY,” Niall says, pulling away and going around the bar so he’s not on the same side as Louis, the asshole, who just stands there smiling at him proudly. “Have you guys settled on anything, yet?”

Looking up at them with a bemused smile, Zayn holds up a copy of _Iron Man_ . “We were thinking of doing like, a marathon? All the biopics of the Avengers, leading up to the battle of New York.” He smiles a little guiltily. “I wanted to watch _Birth of an Era_ but Harry said a documentary would be boring.”

“Well Harry was right, for the first time in his life, ever,” Louis says, snatching the popcorn bowl out of Niall’s hands and plopping into a chair, front and center. “Biopics are way better than documentaries.”

“Yeah, but sometimes they get things wrong, you know, like—”

Louis holds up a hand, _ah ah ah_ ing to interrupt. “I don’t care.” He tosses a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Just play the movie before Liam gets here, otherwise he’ll be pissed at us; Iron Man’s been starring in his wet dreams for the last six and a half years.”

Zayn, Harry, and Niall all look at Louis, bewildered, and he shrugs, unbothered. “Ask him.”

After exchanging a look, the other three decide to drop it. They settle in for the film, and Niall makes sure to snag a seat between Harry and Zayn. He may have been the one Zayn asked on a date, but he’s not taking any chances. Harry’s got dimples. Two of them. Niall can’t compete with just the one, so he’s gotta be careful.

Halfway through the movie, when Tony Stark is caught by Pepper Potts trying to take off the suit, Zayn flips his hand over on the armrest. It’s both cheesy and subtle, Niall will give him that. Smothering a grin, he takes it anyway. He can’t help but wonder, though, if his crush only developed because of the interactions between Zayn and Spider-Man.

Niall has always been the type to fantasize over someone who was nice to him for one whole second—he once legitimately fell in love with a girl who gave him a number two pencil before their AP Human Geography test when he had a panic attack because he forgot his own, which was an adventure that lasted most of his sophomore year—but he thinks maybe this time with Zayn is different. Only he also thinks that he only thinks that because Spider-Man has shared slightly better moments with Zayn. Granted, one near-death experience does not count as a better moment, but he still got to see a side of Zayn that he never would have as just Niall.

Of all the issues he figured he’d run into once he got bit, competing for someone’s romantic interest with his alter ego was not one of them.

He bet Bruce Banner didn’t have to deal with this. No one wants to sleep with the Hulk.

Well.

He’s pulled out of his mental monologue when a buzzer goes off in the room, startling all of them. Harry approaches an intercom, pressing a button.

“Mr. Styles, a young man by the name of Liam Payne is here to see you,” says a formal voice. It’s so stiff it almost sounds British.

“Yeah, go ahead and let him up, James,” Harry says. He grins, flopping back down into his seat. “Liam’s on his way.”

Louis snorts. “Yes, we heard. Not like there’s a speaker in the entire apartment, Harry.”

Making a face, Harry just plays the movie again.  
Liam throws a fit when he walks into the room to see the film is almost finished.

⦕⎈⦖

After they’ve calmed Liam down by rewatching the whole thing, they all head down to the bottom floor, where there’s a private gym for all the residents of the building. For the next two nights, though, it’s been shut down due to ‘renovations.’ Harry assured them it just meant they would have it all to themselves the second it hits eight. Niall has to admit: being disgustingly rich had its perks.

When they get in, the main area of the floor has been cleared out, all the equipment shoved neatly to the sides, and a thick wooden mat has been laid out, complete with fake gutters and an area for the pins to be swept into when they fall. Harry grins at them smugly.

“Only issue is there’s only two bowling balls, and I’m pretty sure they’re the same size, so if Liam’s sausage links get stuck we’ll just have to cut them off,” he says nonchalantly, polishing off a green ball.

Sputtering, Liam tries to hide the blush bleeding into his cheeks by saying, “If you’re so impressed by my fingers, Harry, all you had to do was say so.”

Louis laughs, smacking Liam hard enough on the back to jostle him a bit, but Liam doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looks pleased with himself. “Nice.”

“Actually, Liam, if I had to pick anyone’s fingers it’d be Eleanor’s, so don’t get too cocky,” Harry says coolly. He hands the ball off to a baffled Louis, whose eyes are wide with his mouth hanging open.

Laughing, Niall snatches the ball out of Louis’s hands. “Careful, Lou, seems like Harry might be after your girl,” he says. “He did always like older women.”

Weakly, Louis flips him off. “I’m not worried. Eleanor would never leave me for someone who fucked a teacher.”  
  
“Oh my god, that was a _rumor_ and you know it, Louis!” Harry yells, face flushing.

Looking shocked yet delighted, Zayn holds his hands up, trying to keep the peace. “Alright, guys, come on, no more fighting.” His eyes glimmer with barely concealed curiosity. “Not until someone tells me what teacher Harry fucked.”

All of them burst into their own version of the story at the same time, fighting to be heard over each other. Zayn’s expression grows more and more delighted with each word that makes it to him, and by the time Louis—who has the longest, dirtiest version of the story—is done, he looks like the Joker, his grin is so wide.

“I am...in shock,” he says, eyes lit up. “But I honestly have no idea what any of you said. Please, Harry, share your, um, _experience_ with this teacher.”

Expression murderous—or as murderous as he can get—Harry snatches a pin out of the open box lying on the floor and lobs it at Louis. “All that happened was I got some extra tutoring from my AP World History teacher and she said that she wishes she were younger so we’d be classmates instead of student and teacher, alright? I figured all she meant was she thought I was cool, but when I told _somebody_ —” he throws another pin at Louis, who catches it with a grin, unfazed “—he decided that it meant she wanted to sleep with me but can’t because of obvious legal matters.” He slams the box shut and sits down on it, hard, crossing his arms and fuming. “Everyone made fun of me for weeks, Louis, it isn’t funny.”

“Come on, Haz, don’t be so sensitive, the guys on the soccer team _loved_ you for that story!” Louis says, dropping next to him and slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Everyone knows you didn’t actually sleep with her, alright, Science High kids just love some juicy gossip. It’s fine.”  
  
Harry shrugs him off. “You almost got me expelled, Louis.” He glances up at Zayn from underneath his fringe. “He almost got me expelled.”

Zayn makes a face. “I mean, as amazing as I’m sure Louis’s story is, it’s still illegal. And what your AP World teacher said was...less illegal, but still. But hey,” he nudges Harry’s shin with his toes, “that’s what your super-rich dad is for, right? I’m sure just covered it all up, right?”

“I mean yeah, duh,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “But it was still a bitch to deal with.”  
  
Louis sighs. “I’m sorry, Harry, okay? If I had known you actually cared this much I never would have said anything, but all you ever did was laugh, albeit a bit uncomfortably. You never really told me to stop, so I thought you didn’t mind.”

Pouting, Harry shoves him off the box. “Backhanded apology accepted. Now,” he opens the box and starts pulling more pins out, “are we bowling or what?”

So they bowl. And, as it turns out, Niall’s special _abilities_ include amazing hand eye coordination, which means he does one heck of a job playing any sport. Literally, any sport. He almost tried out for the football team once he realized what he could do, but then his conscious made him understand that no, it wouldn’t be fair. So he didn’t.

Doesn’t mean he can’t wipe the field with any team’s asses, though.

In the end, he gets a perfect score, even though Louis tries to sabotage him more than once, which does a pretty good job of impressing Zayn. Which, of course, he doesn’t really care about, except obviously he does. Zayn smiles at him every time he makes a strike, and Niall can feel his cheeks growing redder every time he looks over at him.

It’s great.

But it isn’t until the third and a half game—with Niall still in the lead—when Liam and Louis have to be pulled off each other and all the pins are confiscated by one of the building’s workers, that they go back to the penthouse. Liam and Louis are only slightly embarrassed by the fight they had, but even being yelled at by some random adult can’t bring down their high. They’re in a building owned by _millionaires_ , so why would they let such a small thing bring them down?

They go back to the screening room when they make it back to the penthouse, but instead of watching more movies they plug in Harry’s Wii and play Mario Kart. Louis, being Louis, insists on being both player one _and_ Mario, and he forces Liam to pick Luigi. Harry, inexplicably, picks Toadette, while Zayn picks Yoshi and Niall picks Waluigi.

Niall wins. Again. Eventually Louis bans him from playing, claiming that he’s been cheating the whole time and shouldn’t be allowed to play, but Niall just sits beside Zayn giving him tips.

“You know I’ve been playing this for years, right?” Zayn asks him at one point, smiling. He doesn’t look away from the screen, but Niall doesn’t mind. He needs to concentrate.

“Yeah, but Louis has been playing since he was in the womb, so.” Niall shrugs. “Not everyone is good enough to beat him.”

Zayn scoffs, glancing at Niall. “Yeah, well, we all can’t be you, now can we.”

Grinning, Niall leans into him for a moment. “I mean, you can try.”

Zayn pushes him off after that.

⦕⎈⦖

Niall can’t sleep. It’s like, three in the morning, and the other boys are all passed out all over Harry’s room—Liam sharing the bed with Louis, Harry sleeping on his bean bag because apparently it’s more comfortable, Niall and Zayn in sleeping bags on the floor—but Niall can’t sleep. He wants to think it’s all the sugar finally hitting him, but his metabolism usually burns through sugar almost as fast as he consumes it. So. That’s not it.

He doesn’t want to think it, but he’s pretty sure it’s his spidey sense.

The hairs on his arms haven’t stood up, though, and his ears haven’t picked up on any weird, out of place sounds. There’s nothing that’s physically set off his sense, only psychologically. He thinks maybe he’s just feeling guilty because he wasn’t listening to the police scanner like he usually does on Fridays, so he’s missed out on whatever usual tomfoolery goes down on nights like these, but it’s not the first time—because sometimes homework has to come before saving the city, alright—and he’s never lost sleep over it before. There’s no sensible reason for this.

Sighing, Niall sits up in his sleeping bag and reaches over Harry’s legs for his phone, where it’s sitting on the floor charging. He unplugs it so he doesn’t have to stretch for so long, and crosses his legs, bending over his phone.

First thing he does is check Twitter, then he checks the news app to see if he can find anything. By the time he’s been roped into watching three cat videos on Instagram, he gives up. Running his hands through his hair and down his face, he sighs as deeply as he can without waking anyone up. Figuring that a walk around the penthouse will calm him down enough to sleep, he stands. He’s steps over Zayn’s prone body, slowly pulling the bedroom door open so it doesn’t creak.

He heads to the screening room first, figuring he can watch something until he falls asleep, but then he sees the mess of dishes they left in the bar sink, and he busies himself with washing them. They’d cleaned up all the food they’d thrown at each other during the movies, but when Harry told them the help—he called them _the help_ unironically, which Louis could not get over—would do the dishes when they came in the next morning, they shrugged it off and moved on. Niall actually feels pretty bad about it, now, so he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work. It doesn’t take him too long, but by the time he’s finished he’s actually more awake than before. Sighing, he drops into one of the fancy seats and grabs for the remote. He’s about to turn the giant tv on when he hears a voice.

It’s far away enough that he doesn’t understand what’s being said, but he hears it nonetheless. Niall has to fight with his conscious over whether it’s really any of his business or not, but in the end he figures that, well, it’s going on four in the morning and Harry said his dad would be out for the whole weekend on some trip. As the only person awake, and as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, it’s technically his job to investigate.

And so he does.

He only heard the voice speak once, but he had a pretty general thought of where it came from. If you were going to rob a millionaire inventor who used a personal library as a study, you’d probably check the library for anything of value. Unless you want an expensive vase, of course.

Making sure to keep his steps silent, Niall walks as quickly as he can to the library. The door is open a few inches when he gets there, but there’s no light. Not even the errant beam of a flashlight. Niall carefully pushes the heavy door open a few more inches, enough for him to stick his head through and peek into the room.

It’s empty.

The windows—floor to ceiling just like all the others—are uncovered, letting in the weak light of a half moon. Frowning, Niall glances around the room. The walls are made of some kind of wood, absorbing what little light there is and making the room seem darker, and there’s furniture scattered around artfully. Across the way is the door that leads into Harry’s father’s room. He creeps into the library, keeping his ears perked.

There’s no sign of any intruders, no footprints in the lush carpet or anything turned over. No visible fingerprints on the glossy wood of the tables, no forgotten flashlight a robber might have left behind. Niall pauses in front of the fireplace. Even that seems innocent. The space is big enough to fit him and the other four boys, with the mantel reaching his eyeline. He laughs to himself quietly. Imagine being rich enough to own a fireplace that can house three small kids comfortably, he thinks. Impressed by the gloss of the wood, Niall smoothes a hand over the mantel, overcome with the urge to feel how soft it must be.

He freezes when the hairs on his arm stand up. Eyes narrowing, he runs his thumb over a square inch of space, feeling two small indents in the wood, about an inch away from each other. Swallowing hard, he presses his thumb into the space slowly. A quiet hissing fills the room, and the painting hanging above the frame slowly spins, coming out of the wall and then going into it, trading places with a glass display box. Niall squints at the vaguely human-like shape inside, tilting his head back on his neck to see it better in the dark. Recognizing what he’s looking at, he gasps.

It’s the Green Goblin.

Breath trembling, Niall stumbles back, arm still held out. It’s the Green Goblin suit, mask and everything. The orange eyes of the mask gleam down at him, the sharp teeth of its perpetual grin seeming sharper in the bad lighting.

If this were a movie, Niall thinks, the dramatic music would be kicking in right about now. Like, _Jaws_ type.

Mind racing, Niall finds himself unable to look away from the suit in front of him. He notices, distantly, that the entire wall above the fireplace has been replaced, not just the painting that was hanging there. On each side of the glass box holding the suit are thinner glass boxes holding one row each of the Goblin’s pumpkin bombs, named so by the _Daily Bugle_ for their distasteful orange color. Directly below the suit lies the glider, folded up and looking nowhere near as menacing as when it’s open and all lit up in danger mode.

Niall can’t really breathe.

He can’t piece together what this means, the Green Goblin having his suit right here in _Harry’s apartment_. Niall’s mind jumps back to only days prior, when the Goblin mentioned his father and his research. Bobby Horan had worked very closely with Stylescorp, had helped them further their DNA-splicing experiments, had done so well that Desmond Styles himself had met with Bobby and asked to work with him.

It was how Niall had met Harry.

And it was two weeks after they met that Bobby and Maura Horan disappeared.

Niall was only six when it happened, and he and Greg had been thrown into foster care. They’d been fortunate enough to stay together while they were in the system, but six years later, Greg had been released from the system as a legal adult, and after he’d gotten a steady job and an apartment he’d fought for custody of Niall and won. Niall had lived with him ever since.

But if Bobby had worked with Desmond Styles, and the Green Goblin’s suit was in Desmond Styles’s _apartment_ , and the Green Goblin knew who Bobby was and what his research involved, then…

“Oh my god,” Niall whispers, mouth going dry.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he whirls around, barely quick enough to jump back when Desmond Styles tries to taze him, almost seeing it in slow motion when the taser barely misses the cloth of his shirt.

“Took you long enough to figure it out, Niall,” Mr. Styles says. Chest heaving, Niall steps back until his head runs into the fireplace mantle. “You know, I had wondered to myself if you ever would figure it out. I mean, it only took me a few months to figure out who was underneath Spider-Man’s mask, so I figured you’d already known, but. I guess you’re not as smart as I had hoped you were.”

“This can’t be right,” Niall whispers harshly. He points behind him at the suit. “That—that _thing_ has murdered countless people! Has tried to kill more!”

Unbothered, Mr. Styles takes a seat on the couch. “All for good reason, Niall. I’ve already told you; those men are stealing money from innocent people for their own private agendas. I’m just doling out the punishment they deserve.”

“You almost killed _Zayn_ ,” Niall snaps. “Zayn, one of your own son’s best friends!” His eyes go wide. “Oh my god, Harry. Does he—”

“I assure you, Harry is none the wiser about my…” he narrows his eyes dramatically. “ _Extracurriculars_ . I’ve told you before, Niall, he’s not too bright. At least, not as bright as you are. I always did prefer you when the two of you were younger.” He stands, crossing over to one of the shelves. Niall moves with him, only in the opposite direction, circling around each other. Mr. Styles uncaps a decanter, pouring himself a glass of something amber. “But know, Niall, that Harry cannot be informed of what goes on outside these walls. He’s a delicate young man, barely even wants to take part in the company. He wouldn’t approve, and I don’t need to be bothered with the issue of dealing with him so I may fulfill my—”  
  
“Vendetta?” Niall interrupts. “I’m not stupid, Mr. Styles. Each time I’ve had to save one of those men you attacked, or—or got there too late to save them I looked them up. You’re killing members of your own board, and for what? So they don’t try to cut you out of your own company? It’s not going to change anything, you don’t own the controlling share anymore. If they want to cut you out, they will.” He shakes his head. “Killing them all won’t stop it.”

Mr. Styles’s hand tightens around his glass, but his expression doesn’t change. “I don’t need a child telling me how to run my company.” Which, Niall was not, but okay. “If I can rid myself of the men who made the decision to weaponize my company then I can gain control over it once again. I just need time. Either way,” he turns to Niall. “Your father suffered at the hands of those men. Your mother. Do you even know what they did to your parents, Niall?”

Niall can’t help it; his eyes fill with tears. “Stop it,” he whispers. “I don’t care.”

A smirk on his face betrays Mr. Styles’s gentle tone. “They hijacked your parents’ plane. The pilot was ordered to kill them both. First, he put the plane on autopilot so it wouldn’t crash. Then he went after your mother first.”  
  
“Stop,” Niall pleads. He shakes his head, brushing away a stray tear. “I don’t need to hear this.”

Humming, Mr. Styles replaces the cap of the decanter carefully. His eyebrow twitches. “I suppose I could spare you the gory details. But the point is, Niall, I’m not the only one who’s been betrayed by the men who call themselves our friends. Who called themselves your father’s friends.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “I only mean to rid the world of them. Because they won’t stop at my company. Oh, no, they won’t stop until they have the world.”  
  
Swallowing hard, Niall blinks away the rest of his tears. Embarrassingly, they’ve gone almost as soon as they’ve come on. “Am I supposed to believe you’re any different?” He continues over Mr. Styles’s insulted expression. “You get your company back, but then some other guy on the other side of the city does something you don’t like. So you take the city. Then someone across the state does something you don’t like. So you take New York. Next thing you know you’ve got the White House under your thumb and you’re going after the United Nations next.” He shakes his head. “You won’t stop at your company, Mr. Styles. Men like you aren’t satisfied with only the barest hint of power. Remember H.Y.D.R.A.? They started with the Nazis, and almost a century later they’re revealed to have taken control of S.H.I.E.L.D. You’re no different.”

Mr. Styles laughs bitterly. “Of course you don’t understand. You’re just a child. You couldn’t possibly—” he takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “Listen to me. Just—we can forget this ever happened, alright?” When he sees Niall’s expression, he backtracks. “Or, not that this happened, but the anger we’re both feeling right now. Niall, you and I can work together to rid my company and this city of the greedy sons of bitches who think they can control whoever and whatever they want. Don’t you think that would make this city better?”

Niall shakes his head. “I’m not going to join that murderous asshole, thank you very much,” he says, pointing to the Goblin suit. “I protect people, I don’t put them in harm’s way.”

“Just think of it this way,” Mr. Styles says. “With you by my side, I will have someone to keep me and the Goblin in line.”

Stepping back, Niall frowns. “What do you mean, you _and_ the Goblin. Is there someone else working with you?”

Mr. Styles’s expression changes so drastically, so quickly, that Niall has to take another step back, and suddenly Mr. Styles looks murderous. “Look what you’ve now, you fool!” he hisses, and even his voice is different. Niall cowers back, but Mr. Styles doesn’t even look at him. “If he hasn’t figured it out yet he most certainly will now!”

“Well, sir, if you would just let me handle this—” Mr. Styles says, and his voice is back to normal, but it’s like there’s someone else in his head when he cuts himself off.

“I have let you handle this, you moron, and look where it’s gotten us! Nowhere closer to our goal. If the boy insists on standing in our way, then _get rid of him_!” Mr. Styles stares right at Niall as he says it, and if Niall’s spidey sense had alarms they’d be blaring, sirens on high and lights flashing red.

Niall has to get out of there.

He twists and sprints out of there, flinching when he hears the glass from Mr. Styles’s hand crash into the wall. As quietly and quickly as he can, he bursts into Harry’s room and gets his stuff together. There’s no way he’s staying another second if he can help it.

“Ni?” a voice asks, sleep muddled. He turns to see Zayn pushing himself up onto one elbow, rubbing at his eyes. His hair is flat on one side, all pushed up on the other side. It’d be a lot more endearing under literally any other circumstance. “What’s up?”

Swallowing down his fear, Niall sends him a shaky smile. “My, uh, my sister just texted, she said that she needs me home. My—my nephew’s running a fever, she needs me to get her some medicine for her.” He shrugs. “I gotta go.”

“Do you need a ride, Niall?” Mr. Styles says, appearing in the doorway. Zayn and Niall both jump, startled, and Niall shakes his head vigorously.

“N—no, sir, I’ll be fine,” he says, voice trembling. “I don’t live too far from here, I can just take a cab.”

Mr. Styles smiles, and in the shadows it looks so evil that Niall almost pees his pants right there. “Nonsense, Niall, what kind of a father would I be if I let my son’s closest friend leave in the middle of the night by cab?”

“Um, sir,” Zayn says, sitting up. “I could just call my sister. She should be up by now anyway; she has the early shift at the hotel she works at.” He laughs sheepishly. “Or, late shift, I guess.”

Niall watches as Mr. Styles’s jaw twitches. He can’t tell Zayn no without it looking too weird, Niall knows, so it’s with barely concealed glee as he see Mr. Styles nod.

“Sounds fine,” he says tightly. “You let me know when she gets here.” And then he’s gone.

Barely keeping himself from collapsing in relief, Niall turns to Zayn. “Thank you, but I don’t need your sister to come get me.”

Zayn smiles, soft and confused. “I know. I could tell you didn’t want to ride with him, though, so I figured I should come up with something to help you.”

Niall laughs softly, still trying to catch his breath. “Yeah, I mean, neither of your sisters are even old enough to work, much less drive.” Zayn quirks his head.

“I’ve got an older sister, too,” he says. “She’s nineteen.”

“Oh,” Niall says faintly. He’s only ever met the younger two. Or, Spider-Man has only ever met the younger two. Whatever. “Right, it’s just. You never mentioned, I guess. I just—I gotta go, tell Harry and them I’m sorry.”

He leaves without another word. Instead of going down, though, he goes up. As soon as he’s found a door that says ‘roof access’ he’s through it, sprinting up the steps and bursting onto the roof. He tosses his stuff behind a generator, pulling his suit out and stuffing his pajamas in. He’s changed in record time, his adrenaline pushing him to go faster, faster, faster.

Shooting a web at another building, Niall is just jumping off when a window crashes and there’s the Green Goblin, on his glider and going after Niall. He lets out a shout, honestly, terrified, and continues swinging through the city. The further from Zayn and them he gets, the less danger they’ll be in.

Christ, Harry’s _dad_ was the Green Goblin the _whole time._ And he doesn’t even know. Harry’s barely even kept up with the Green Goblin as is, claiming that giving him the attention he wants only spurs him on, of course he never realized the villain was living in his home the whole time.

He’s so lost in his racing thoughts, in his panic, that he doesn’t notice the Goblin fly up beside him until the last second. Shouting, he tries to turn too late, and the Goblin rams into him, sending him flying into a building that’s been under construction for months. Crying out, Niall flies through plastic tarps and half-finished walls, and by the time he’s landed his suit is torn, again, and he’s out of breath. He lies on his back, breathing heavily, and can’t even bring himself to stand when the Goblin flies in.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” he asks, and the mask isn’t the only thing snarling. Niall whimpers, scooting away. “You can’t defeat me, Spider-Man, and I’ve given you too many chances to join me. We could have done great things together, but instead you chose to stop me. You’re dead, kid. I can’t have you interrupting my plans any longer.” He throws one of his pumpkin bombs at Niall, and even though it doesn’t hit him, the blast send him flying halfway across the half-constructed floor of the building they’re on. Niall slides across the floor, crying out when his body falls off the edge of the floor, and he holds on by one hand. He can hear the Goblin cackling, and quickly pulls himself up. He’s barely made it a dozen feet before the Goblin has hopped off his glider and landed in front of him. He slowly steps to the side, circling the Goblin, so he doesn’t get sent out of the building again if he gets hit.

“Misery, misery, misery, that’s what you’ve chosen,” he says. He slowly approaches Niall, who struggles to his feet. “I offered you friendship, and you spat in my face.” Niall sees his arm raise, tries to block it, but he’s too slow, and the punch hits him in the center of his chest, sending him flying. Again. Niall is getting tired of this.

Groaning, he calls out, “I can’t be friends with my friend’s dad. That’s just weird.”

The Goblin snarls, jumping six feet in a single leap, and brings his fist down. Niall slips out of the way, sliding along the floor until he can stand, but the Goblin is there, and with a well placed kick he’s back on the floor. He leaps onto Niall, holding him down with his legs on Niall’s arms, and punches him in the face repeatedly. Niall groans with every hit, and he gathers the strength—and the courage, really—to buck up his hips, sending the Goblin forward, and he brings his head up until their foreheads are smashing. They both cry out in pain, but it gets the Goblin off Niall, which was his intention.

He stumbles to his feet, running into another section of the floor, probably an office or something. There’s half of a wall and a pillar blocking him from the Goblin so Niall takes the opportunity to rest his hands on his knees and breath. When the Goblin appears, he shoots webs at the wall and pillar, connecting them so the Goblin can’t get through, but he tears them down. Taking advantage of his distraction, Niall runs to him, fist raised. He swings, and he’s barely made contact before the Goblin has raised a knee and hit him in the chest.

Niall goes stumbling into another half-finished wall, and he grunts when his hands land on it, supporting him. Turning to do _something_ that could possibly stop the Goblin, he’s sent right back into the wall when the villain kicks him in the chest. Niall lands on his front, groaning, and he weakly lifts his hand, trying to shoot another web, but the Goblin brings a foot down on his wrist, pinning in to the floor.

“You’ve spun your last web, Spider-Man,” he says. “Had you not been so selfish your little friends wouldn’t have had to suffer, but now?” He chuckles darkly. “Now I’m gonna finish them nice and slow.” Gritting his teeth, Niall stares up at him.

Like hell he is.

Knowing he can’t let the Goblin hurt anyone else, another burst of adrenaline runs through Niall, and this time he knows he has to make use of it. He stands, watching as the Goblin pulls some sort of staff out of his belt.

“Your friends and I? We’re gonna have a hell of a time,” he says, and the staff becomes some sort of pitchfork, with three blades at the top. He thrusts it at Niall, but Niall stops it, hands coming up and gripping two of the blades. He can feel the edges cut into his suit, his hands, but he holds on, pushing it away from him. Through the Goblin’s eyepieces, he can see Mr. Styles’s eyes go wide.

Crying out, Niall pushes the pitchfork away from him, and the end of the staff catches the Goblin in the chest, sending him flying into another wall. As soon as he stands Niall sends webs at his feet, pulling on them and knocking him over again. While the Goblin is down, Niall shoots webs at the top of a pillar, hoping against hope that it’s weak enough for this to work, and _pulls_.

It comes toppling down on the Goblin, who barely has time to throw his hands up. He’s buried beneath the plaster and rubble, and Niall runs in the opposite direction as the Goblin struggles to stand again. Shooting webs at the high ceiling, where the pillar had been before, Niall swings, crashing into the Goblin who’s only just stood up and sending him flying into another wall. He falls onto his front but Niall doesn’t let up, landing in front of him and grabbing him by the throat. Pinning the Goblin to the wall, he punches him in the gut, then the face, then the face again, and again, and again, and again, until—

“Niall, stop!” Mr. Styles says, his voice filled with tears. He throws up a hand, saying, “It’s me, it’s me, not him.” Niall freezes, fist still in the air, and Mr. Styles pulls his mask off.

“Mr. Styles?” Niall asks, hesitating.

Nodding, Mr. Styles swallows hard. “Niall, thank god for you. I—”

“No!” Niall shouts, and Mr. Styles flinches. “You killed all those people, you tried to kill more!”

Mr. Styles cries out, throwing his hands over his face. “It was the Goblin, I had nothing to do with it!” His voice goes choked, strained, as he says, “Don’t let him take me again, please! I’m begging you, protect me!”

Shaking his head, Niall takes a step back. “You tried to kill all those men, you—you tried to kill _Zayn_.”

“But not you,” Mr. Styles says, hands dropping to his lap. He stares up at Niall, pleading. “I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t. But I would never hurt you. I knew from the beginning, if anything ever happened to me it was you who I could count on.” The hairs on Niall’s neck stands, but he doesn’t see Mr. Styles doing anything to cause it. “I knew that you, Niall, would save me, and—and you have, thank god.” Swallowing hard, he struggles to his feet and stretches out a hand. “Give me your hand, Niall. Believe in me, the way I’ve believed in you.” Niall stays frozen, staring at him, and he spreads his arms out. “I’ve been like a father to you, remember? Be a son to me, now.”

Niall breathes in, feels it shake. “I have a father,” he says. “His name was Greg Horan.”

It’s like a shadow has passed over Mr. Styles’s face, the way it darkens so quickly. Even his voice has changed when he says, “Godspeed, Spider-Man.”

Niall feels it coming before he hears it, and he jumps into the air, flipping backwards, and feels the blade of the Goblin’s glider barely graze his calf as it speeds at him. He hears a thud, and a pained groan, and when he lands he sees Mr. Styles pinned to the wall by his own weapon, hands struggling to push the glider away, blood trickling from his mouth. The fight dies out of him in only a few seconds, and he slumps over the glider, eyes locking with Niall’s.

“Niall,” he says, spitting blood. “Don’t tell Harry.” And he falls the rest of the way, chin thumping on the glider, eyes still wide open and piercing into Niall’s.

Shocked, Niall stays frozen in his crouch. “Mr. Styles?” he calls quietly. “Mr. Styles, are you okay?” He swallows hard, crawling over slowly. “Mr. Styles, everything’s gonna be okay, alright, I’m gonna—I’m gonna get you out of there, okay? I’m gonna—” he sees the blood dripping down his legs from where the glider pierced him and looks away, gagging.

He rips off his mask, feeling suffocated by the material. Gasping, he tries to swallow back the tears. Despite what he’d said, Desmond Styles had done a lot for Niall as he’d grown up, even when he was in the system. Mr. Styles was the one who ensured that Niall and Greg stayed together no matter which house they were sent to. He’d watched over them, visited them, made sure they stayed in the same district so Niall could continue to attend school with Harry. It was because of Mr. Styles Niall had even gotten an interview to Midtown School for Science and Technology. He’d been the one to urge Niall to try out for band. Had been the first one to question why he’d quit band, too.

The first sob is unexpected, but Niall pushes through it, crying even as he pulled the glider out of Mr. Styles’s body. He catches Mr. Styles before he can fall, still crying, and he sniffs in hard.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asks, brushing a hand over his face. “I—this wasn’t supposed to happen, Mr. Styles, it wasn’t supposed to be you, I.” He sobs, folding over Mr. Styles’s body.

In the end, Niall doesn’t move for hours. It’s almost light outside before he finally finds the strength to stand. He webs up Mr. Styles and his glider—because it was _his glider_ , not the glider of some random asshole with a grudge, it belonged to his best friend’s _dad_ —makes sure they’re held together tightly before he swings back to the penthouse. He sneaks in quietly, leaves Mr. Styles on one of the couches in the library, and strips him quietly. Obviously, Niall feels a bit awkward undressing Mr. Styles, but fortunately for him he’s wearing a regular t shirt and jeans underneath the suit. The stab wounds in his stomach are gaping open, still bleeding, somehow, and Niall almost passes out.

It doesn’t take him long to get the suit and glider back in their case above the fireplace, but it’s as the wall is spinning to bring the picture frame back that Niall notices something is off. He whips his head towards the door, and jumps back when he sees Harry standing in the doorway, face pale and eyes wide.

“Dad?” he asks quietly, voice cracking. He looks up at Niall, who had the good sense to put his mask back on before leaving the construction site. “You—you did this?”

Niall shakes his head, bringing his hands up as if he were warding Harry away. Harry flinches, taking a step back.

“You’re supposed to be the good guy!” Harry yells, face going red. His eyes well up, and Niall shakes his head again, unable to say anything. “Why would you do this, he was just—he was a good guy!” Harry rushes over to where his dad’s body is lying, shaking him. “Come on, no, how could you!” He throws one of the sculptures resting on the tables at Niall, who catches it easily. “How could you do this! He didn’t do anything wrong, okay, just—bring him back!” Harry stands, face wet, and points at Niall. At Spider-Man. “You bring him back right now, I swear to god.”

Clearing his throat, Niall pitches his voice down a few octaves, the way he did with Zayn. “I didn’t do this, okay, I found him this way.”

Harry’s expression goes from angry to horrified, and he glances between his dad and Niall before turning to the table that Mr. Styles had gotten his drink from the night before. He pulls open a drawer, spinning back to Niall with his arms raised, pointing a gun at him.

“Harry, I didn’t do this,” Niall pleads, hands up, but he takes a step back. He doesn’t think Harry will do it, but people do bad things when they’re grieving. There are a couple of men in prison who can attest to that. Niall would know; he put them there himself. “Listen to me, okay, it wasn’t me. I would never do this, okay, just—”

He jumps three feet to the right when Harry pulls the trigger, staring at the hole in the wall where he had been standing. Harry is...not a bad shot.

“I know how to use this, okay, now tell me what you did!” Harry yells, and Niall can hear the others running now, yelling out Harry’s name, and he has to get out of there.

Stepping back, Niall waves his hands at Harry. “Listen to me, Harry, this wasn’t me, I wish I could explain, but I just—” he jumps up when Harry shoots again. “Would you _stop shooting at me_? I don’t have time to explain, okay, but I just need you to know that this isn’t my fault.”

Harry shoots again, and Niall only barely misses the bullet, watches it fly right in front of his eyes. “Like hell it isn’t, you killed my father!”

“Harry!” Louis yells, bursting into the library. “Holy shit,” he breathes, catching sight of Niall.

Niall could not agree more.

Shaking his head, Niall runs across the room and jumps out the window he left open when he came in, listening to the boys yell at each other, trying to calm each other down. He clings to wall just outside, listens to Harry sob and the others trying to make some sense out of him. Niall clenches his jaw, pushing his own tears back, and scales the wall to the top of the building, where he left his stuff. If he hadn’t run, if he hadn’t been such a coward, Harry’s dad would still be alive right now.

But then, so would the Green Goblin.

When he makes it to the top, he runs to the generator he left his stuff behind, grabbing it without pause and running to the other side, leaping off while pulling the straps over his shoulders. He catches himself just in time, swinging through the line of cars already forming for the morning rush of traffic. He makes it home in record time, landing in the alley behind his building and quickly changing out of his clothes. It’s early enough that Denise won’t be out of bed when he gets inside the apartment, so he’ll have time to shower the sweat, grime, and blood off.

It’s not until he’s clean that he finally crashes, passing out on his bed from exhaustion.

Denise wakes him up hours later, but it’s still morning. She’s holding her phone to her ear, humming along to whoever’s on the line, brushing Niall’s hair back with a worried look on her face. Turning over, Niall buries his face back into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he listens to the conversation.

“Yeah, he’s here,” Denise is saying. “I didn’t even notice when he came back, I mean, that door squeals like a pig when it opens,” which Niall knew how to get past, of course. “He didn’t even text me, god. How are the boys, then?”

The voice of whoever’s on the phone is tinny, but Niall can still hear it. “Well, Harry is obviously inconsolable,” it says. It sounds like Liam’s mom. “He hasn’t stopped crying long enough for the cops to get a statement out of him, but Louis was able to translate, you know how those two are. Liam says Niall would probably be able to calm him down, if he were here, but whatever happened to make him leave was probably for the better. Who knows what could have happened.”

“Ugh, don’t make me think of that,” Denise says. “I just feel so terrible, Desmond was such a good guy. And Harry, what is he going to do? His mom is never home; who’s gonna take care of him? God, the poor kid. I can only imagine what he’s going through.”

Liam’s mom makes a funny noise. “Denise, you already know what he’s going through. So does, Niall, I mean, it’s barely been a year since Greg—”

Denise stands quickly, lowering her voice and walking to the other side of the room. “That was different, Karen, come on. Greg was Niall’s brother, they never got along the way Harry and his dad did. I understand what you’re trying to say, but. It’s not the same.”

Niall sniffles, rolling over onto his back to see Denise staring at him, her eyes wide.

“Listen, Karen, I gotta go, alright? I’ll have Niall call Liam, so he can get the whole story. Thanks for calling,” she says, hanging up. She comes back to Niall’s side, crouching by the bed to meet Niall’s gaze. “You weren’t supposed to come back until tonight, sweetie.”

Nodding, Niall looks up to the ceiling. His eyes are watering, but he needs to hold the tears back for Denise’s sake. He’s lucky she hasn’t moved Theo into his room yet like she said she would; he’d be an absolute mess if he had to deal with that right now.

“Niall,” Denise says quietly. “Did you hear what happened?”

Shrugging, Niall swallows. “Something about Mr. Styles, and Greg. I think I can figure out what that means.” He’s actually the only one who _really_ knows what happened, but he can’t say that, so he doesn’t. “Is Harry okay?”

Denise runs a hand through his hair, lying her other arm on the bed and propping her chin on it. “He’s a mess. You know how Harry is, always been pretty emotional. I think he might need a friend right now, though.”

Niall sniffs. “He’s got Louis, Liam, and Zayn,” he says quietly.

Brow furrowing, Denise shakes her head. “They haven’t known him as long as you, though. You’ve always been the one he goes to when he’s having a bad day, right? Well, this is probably his worst day. I don’t why you came home early, Niall, but I think you need to go back. He needs you.”

Niall is the absolute last person Harry needs right now. “Okay. I’ll go.”

⦕⎈⦖

When he makes it back to the penthouse, there’s cops stationed all over the building. They ask him for an ID when he gets to the door, but all he’s got is his school one, which they frown at. They let him in, though, which is enough. He approaches the front desk, asks if he can go up to the penthouse. The man at the desk remembers Niall from the day before, and although he’s confused when he sees Niall, he lets him up.

All he can hear when the elevator doors open is official voices, walkie talkies, and crying. Niall is stopped four times by different officers who want to know who he is, but when he’s let through to Harry’s room, he wants to turn back around.

Harry is curled up on his bed, crying into his knees, with Louis, Liam, and Zayn crowded around him. Louis and Liam have an arm around him each, but Zayn sits by his toes, looking lost. God, this must be so weird for him. He barely knows them and he’s already been dragged into the shitshow that is their life.

They all look up when Niall knocks on the door quietly. No one says a word, but Louis scoots over so Niall can takes his place. When Niall fits himself between the wall and Harry, Harry immediately leans into his lap, his face in Niall’s knees instead of his own. Fighting back tears, Niall places a hand in his hair, playing with it the way he knows Harry likes. Hopefully if Niall keeps it up he’ll fall asleep.

None of them have even changed out of their pajamas yet.

It’s silent for over an hour, until Harry’s cries have turned to sniffles and he’s finally fallen asleep. Then they finally speak.

“Where were you this morning?” Liam asks quietly, scared of waking Harry up.

Niall shrugs, still running his hand through Harry’s hair. “I, uh. Denise grounded me for skipping the other day, and I guess I was feeling guilty. I figured it’d be best if I just went home.”

“Harry’s screaming woke us up at almost seven,” Louis says. “How early did you leave?”

Meeting Zayn’s gaze, Niall says, “Early.”

No one pushes it. Niall nods at Zayn gratefully when he doesn’t say anything. Very obviously confused, Zayn nods back.

Niall really wishes he could explain, but he can’t, so he stays quiet. They don’t say anything else, not even when Zayn’s dad comes in to check on them, in full uniform. Of course they would call the captain to the scene of the murder of one of the richest men in the city. He asks if they’re hungry, but they just shake their heads. After checking to make sure the other officers don’t need him, he comes over to the bed and sits by Zayn, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and murmuring softly in Urdu. Zayn leans into him, and Niall tears up again when Captain Malik drops a kiss on the crown of Zayn’s head, so much so that he has to look away.

Harry doesn’t wake up for hours, long enough for the rest of them to drift in and out of sleep more than once themselves. Their muscles get sore from being still for too long, but they don’t move. It’s like they’ve made some sort of silent vow, to watch over Harry until he’s okay again.

They’ll be watching over him for a while.

⦕⎈⦖

The crime rate falls, after that. Everyone says it’s because the whole city has been impacted by the great Desmond Styles’s death, but Niall knows it’s really that the Green Goblin was an inspiration to many. He had so many copycats Niall started losing count, at one point.

Spider-Man becomes a wanted criminal. For real, this time. Before, he was just a nuisance, someone the cops wanted to ‘bring in for questioning’ and nothing else, but now there are actual wanted posters. The _Daily Bugle_ plasters an ad on their front page, _ten thousand dollar reward from the Stylescorp heir_ , and a very flattering picture of Spider-Man punching a man in the face. Niall remembers that day. The guy got ten years in prison for aggravated assault, but Spider-Man is the bad guy.

Harry’s statement has obviously made its rounds.

It’s been printed in every paper at least twice, _Spider-Man killed my dad_ in bolded caps across every front page, and everyone believes him. There are some who don’t, some who say he must have tried to save him and failed, but Niall knows firsthand just how easily people can be swayed to have the wrong opinion.

They all go to school, like normal, except for Harry, who has to be at home with his mom and sister to deal with funeral and legal stuff.

Niall is so, so tempted to hang up the Spider-Man mask for good. But he has something he needs to do first. Something very, very selfish.

⦕⎈⦖

Safaa pulls the curtain aside when he taps on the window, and her eyes go wide. The curtain drops again, and Niall hopes she’s gone to get Zayn. He hides just in case, since he’s not quite sure if Captain Malik is on duty or not. He couldn’t hear anything about it on the police scanner.

He’s hanging on the wall above the window when Zayn climbs out, shutting the window behind himself. He stands on the fire escape, hands on his hips, and says, “Well, come on out, then.”

Niall drops gently in front of him, not wanting to scare him. Zayn flinches anyway. It’s small, but Niall sees it. He takes a step back, knowing this probably won’t go well. He holds his hands up, _I come in peace._

“What do you want?” Zayn asks, crossing his arms. He looks distrustful of Niall, of Spider-Man, and Niall can’t blame him, given the circumstances.

Shrugging, Niall drops his hands. “I just needed to know, I guess. If you hated me, like I know Harry does now.”

Zayn shakes his head, scoffing. He won’t even look at Niall. “Really? Of all things, you’re checking to see if I hate you?” He runs a hand through his hair. “What about Harry, huh? Why aren’t you trying to talk to him, to explain what happened?” Pausing, he looks at Niall from the corner of his eye. “What _did_ happen?”

“I can’t really say,” Niall says apologetically. Zayn scoffs again, and he rushes to explain. “It’s bigger than you and me, okay, it’s—it’s a whole ass mess, alright?” He tries to run a hand through his hair, but because of the mask all he can do is run it over his head. “I really wish I could explain it to you, Zayn, I do, but I can’t. Not without hurting more people.” Dropping his hand, he shrugs weakly. “Including you.”

“Bullshit,” Zayn mutters. “If you really cared about not hurting anyone you’d have saved Harry’s dad, or at least explained to him what it is that happened. You’re only hurting people by being selfish.”

Feeling heavy with the word, Niall drops onto the staircase facing Zayn. “I know. I am selfish, but I just. It’s the only way. If Harry knew what happened to his dad it’d be even worse. He’d hate his dad instead of me, and I can’t let that happen.”

Eyeing him, Zayn tilts his chin. “What do you mean?”

Niall swallows past the lump in his throat. “Nothing. Just, um. Tell Harry to check the painting, alright? He won’t know what it means, not right away, but. Maybe it’ll give him some time.”

“You’re being so fucking cryptic right now, it’s pissing me off,” Zayn snaps. “You know, a week ago I was telling my friend all about you, I sounded like a fucking lovestruck kid, the way I was gushing over you. And now I just want to rip that mask off your head and give you two black eyes.”

Despite the situation, Niall finds himself laughing. “I honestly don’t blame you, and would actually kind of like to see that happen. But uh, in the name of self preservation, you know. I can’t let it.” He sighs, scratching his arm. There’s a spider web connecting two of the bars on the staircase, and he almost smiles. “You never answered my question.”

“You never asked one,” Zayn retorts, but he droops, all the anger bleeding out of him. “No. I don’t hate you. I really wish I did, because you hurt one of my friends, but. No. And don’t think it’s because I’m still, like, obsessed with you or something. It’s only because I don’t know what happened, and I’m just hoping for the best like an idiot.”

Niall nods. “Thanks. I know how it is, wanting to hate someone but not being able to. I, uh, I’ve sort of found myself in the same situation as of late. But anyway, I should probably head out. Just wanted to know, you know? I’ll leave you alone now.”

Zayn frowns, brows pulling together. “You really came all the way over here just to make sure I don’t hate you?” Niall nods, pulling himself to his feet. “But—I don’t.” He shakes his head, seemingly at a loss for words. Niall tilts his head, watching him fight through some sort of internal struggle. “Listen, just. I’m gonna do something, okay, but just. It’s not really rational, so just chalk it up to me being starstruck or something, okay?” Niall nods, bemused. “Don’t run, either?” Crossing his heart, Niall places his hands on his hips. Zayn slowly approaches him, eyes worried. “Don’t run.”

When he’s close enough, his hands slowly come up to Niall’s neck. Niall’s breath hitches when Zayn finds the part where the mask and suit overlap, and he flinches minutely. Zayn freezes, staring up at him, and Niall swallows, nodding. Slowly, Zayn pulls the mask up so it’s folding over his nose, stopping there. He takes a deep breath, and then—

And then he’s kissing Niall. Spider-Man. Whatever. Either way, he’s kissing _someone_ , his hands gently holding Niall’s face between them, not even trying to pull the mask off any further. Frozen, Niall isn’t quite sure how to respond, but when Zayn tries to pull away Niall’s hands fall to his hips, pulling him back in to kiss him proper. Zayn makes a startled sound, but it turns into a sigh. They pull back, foreheads resting together, and Niall sighs.

“That was wrong,” he says quietly. Zayn doesn’t say anything. “I don’t mean that I didn’t like it, because obviously I did, but. I shouldn’t be taking advantage of you like this. You said it yourself, you’re just starstruck. I have to—I gotta leave you alone, man.”

“What, no,” Zayn says, pulling back. “That’s not what I want, I just—I just said I don’t hate you, I _kissed_ you! If, if anything this is where you take off your mask and tell me who you are and then we go to dinner or something. This is not where you break up with me and fuck off, bro.”

Snorting, Niall runs a hand over his face, bringing the mask back down and firmly tucking it into place. “Yeah, I wish. You should, uh. Focus on the people around you, right? People who aren’t hurling themselves off of buildings for fun. And, um. I can’t break up with you if we’re not actually together, you know that, right?”

Zayn rolls his eyes, cheeks going pink. “Whatever, man, you know what I mean.” He sighs, dragging his hands down his face. “Just. You don’t get to. This isn’t done, not when we only just—”

“Hey,” Niall interrupts. “This wasn’t ever gonna be a thing, anyway. There is no way I can get involved with _anyone_ , not like this,” he gestures to himself. “I just, I was selfish. After we first met, I wanted to see you more, but I never should have done that. I was just taking advantage of you.” He sees Zayn clench his jaw, roll his eyes again, and he soothes his voice, taking a step forward. “Hey. As long as I wear this mask, I can’t risk starting something with someone who could become a target.”

“So take off the damn mask, _Spider-Man_ ,” Zayn snaps, tense. His whole body is pulled taut, like a whip about to snap. “No one is fucking telling you to leave it on and flirt with random boys whose lives you _invade_ —” he cuts himself off, turning his head away. “I was content with the one meeting, alright? You didn’t have to come back, you didn’t have to fucking, I dunno, kiss me just then!” He runs his hands through his hair, looking harassed. Niall shouldn’t have come. “Take off the mask.”

Niall shakes his head. “You know I can’t do that,” he says quietly.

“Take off the _fucking_ mask, Niall!” Zayn shouts. It echoes, bouncing off the buildings surrounding them. A startled pigeon flies off one of the other balconies nearby, cooing.

They’re both frozen. Zayn looks pissed, and Niall can’t even breathe. He’d thought—he never even _said_ —

“Take it off,” Zayn whispers, no less angry. His eyes are shining with unshed tears, and Niall can’t fucking move. “I swear to god, Niall, if you don’t take it off—”

Slowly, movements jerky, Niall’s hands come up, grabbing the edge of the mask. He pulls it off slowly, and he doesn’t exactly _mean_ to be dramatic about it, but given the current situation and the fact that he is only seventeen and therefore has a natural disposition for drama, he thinks he’s allowed to let the movement gain some tension. If this were a movie, there’d be really tense music playing right now.

When he’s finally got the mask off, Zayn shakes his head, face crumpling, and he turns away, pressing a fist to his mouth. Niall wants to reach out to him, wants to comfort him in some way, but he knows he can’t. Zayn needs a moment to process this, and Niall knows it’s the type of thing that one needs to process without any distractions. No matter how much he wants to provide them.

Turned away from him, both hands over his face, Zayn says, “Why.” His voice is muffled, thick with tears.

Sniffling once, hard, Niall looks down and fidgets with the mask in his hands. “I’m gonna need you to be a bit more specific, bro.”

“Why the _fuck_ ,” Zayn hisses, turning, “is one of my best friends crying in his room right now, mourning his dead father? Why the fuck are _you_ the one in the suit that brought said best friend’s dad into the apartment in the first place? Why the fuck have you been lying to us this whole time?”

Niall shakes his head, gritting his teeth and looking up so the tears won’t fall. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

“I can’t answer the first question, Zee,” he says, and he’s not sure where the nickname comes from. Zayn flinches when he hears it though, and Niall regrets it immediately. “The thing with Mr. Styles, it’s—it’s bigger than you or me, you know? That’s a whole other thing, and I don’t want to hurt anyone any more than I already have.”

“Bullshit,” Zayn spits. “It’s a little too late to try to keep people from getting hurt, don’t you think, now that Harry’s dad is lying in a morgue somewhere with two stab wounds in his gut?” Flinching, Niall’s eyes squeeze shut, and the tears start falling. He shakes his head as Zayn keeps going. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too late to protect anyone, after you’ve done the one thing Spider-Man was never supposed to do? You killed Harry’s dad, Niall, and _now_ you don’t wanna hurt anyone?”

“He was the Green Goblin!” Niall yells over him. Zayn freezes, eyes going wide, but it’s Niall’s turn now. “The whole time, okay, Mr. Styles was the Green Goblin, it’s why most of his victims were from the Stylescorp board of directors; they were trying to freeze him out, to sell his tech and shit to the military or something, I don’t fucking _know_ , okay? But it was him, and that night I didn’t have a choice, it was him or me, it happened in like two seconds, okay, and I didn’t _think_ , I didn’t know he would get hit when I jumped, I just—” he keeps stuttering out some sort of explanation, but it’s garbled with his tears, and eventually he just collapses into sobs, unable to hold it back.

Looking panicked, Zayn approaches him slowly, and when they’re right in front of each other he wraps his arms around Niall, bringing them down so Niall is sitting one step below Zayn, crying into his chest. He can’t help it, it’s like a damn has been broken. He’s been over at Harry’s every day after school in the week since his dad died, and he’d kept a brave face for him, not wanting to make Harry cry more. Harry’s so emotional, he tears up when those ASPCA commercials come on with the sad dogs, he wouldn’t be able to handle Niall crying along with him. But now Harry isn’t here, and Niall’s crying, and it feels like it’s never going to stop. Zayn is trying to talk to him, to calm him down, and he guesses that it’s working, but he’s just so tired.

Eventually, when he does stop, he just burrows his forehead into Zayn’s chest, wanting to disappear. Of course, he wasn’t gifted with that ability when that stupid spider bit him, so now he’s gotta face Zayn.

Speaking of.

“You’re gonna have to start from the beginning, man,” he says into Niall’s hair, tone so different compared to five minutes ago.

Sniffing, Niall nods, pulling away. He rubs his hands over his eyes, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over him.

“Um, so,” he starts, clearing his throat. “Last year, this thing happened. It’s a weird story, and I still don’t fully understand what it was, but I woke up one day and I was _this_. And then, not three months later, some guy starts flying around the city trying to kill people and calling himself the Green Goblin. He kept asking me to join him, like some sort of cliche, but I said no, and I. I noticed there was a pattern with his victims, right, I noticed they were all rich guys with a million shares in a million companies, but the only one they had in common was Stylescorp. And then, when we were at Harry’s, I couldn’t sleep so I went exploring or whatever. And I hit some button on the fireplace and suddenly the Green Goblin was right there, only it wasn’t him, it was suit.”

“That’s why you told me to tell Harry about the painting?” Zayn asks quietly. Niall nods.

“Yeah. So I turn around and suddenly Mr. Styles is there, and he’s telling me all this crap, and I,” Niall sucks in a shaky breath. “I ran. I didn’t think he would follow me, but he did, and we fought, and he tried to kill me, but I dodged his glider and it hit him instead. And obviously I’m freaking out, you know, this man was like a second father to me, what was I supposed to do with his _body_ ?” His voice trembles, but he ignores it. “I didn’t know what else to do. So I dropped him off at the penthouse but you guys weren’t supposed to be awake but Harry _was_ , and now he hates me but how the hell am I supposed to tell him that his _dad_ was the one fucking up New York for the better part of a year?”

Zayn lets out a long breath, rustling Niall’s hair. His arms are still wrapped around Niall’s shoulders, which he hopes is a good sign.

“You have to tell him, Niall,” he says. He keeps talking, ignoring Niall’s protests. “No, I know, okay, I get it, but you have to. Otherwise he’s gonna piece it together on his own, just like I did, only it’ll be worse with him because his dad is dead.”

Niall snorts, running a hand hard over his face. “How did you find out about me, anyway?”

“Well,” Zayn says, planting his chin on Niall’s head. “I didn’t know until you caught me that day, when we landed on the roof? But then you mentioned my dad, and there’s no way Spider-Man could have known who I was like that. Plus, you’re not very good at making your voice sound different. Along with the fact that you _didn’t_ make your voice different when we first met, as you or Spider-Man. It was pretty easy to figure out.” He snorts. “Plus, my dad told me about his own close encounter with Spider-Man, when he took a call in the middle of a conversation, and said you were mentioning a friend who needed to skip class, and then something about going to someone’s house for the weekend. I have no idea how you lasted this long before anyone found you out, man, because you’re terrible at this.”

“So uh,” Niall grimaces. “I’ve really made a fool out of myself, haven’t I?”  He groans when Zayn hums in agreement. “This is so embarrassing. I’m over here saying all this stupid shit as if you don’t know who I am, and then—”  
  
“Niall, I’m the one who’s tried to kiss you twice,” Zayn interrupts, laughing. “I’m the one who should be embarrassed. We barely knew each other and I was already trying to make out with you.”

Humming, Niall leans further into Zayn. “At least you succeeded once.”

Zayn shakes with laughter, but he sobers up quickly. “What are you gonna do about Harry, then, if you’re not gonna tell him?”  
  
Niall shakes his head. “There’s not really a whole lotta options, I mean. There’s no way for me to tip him off about his dad without him figuring it out, unless—wait.” He sits up straight, so quickly it startles Zayn into dropping his arms and sitting up as well. “I could—okay, I get that I’m not the greatest like, actor or whatever, but I hid that I’m Spider-Man from Harry for a year. Obviously I’m somewhat good at faking stuff.”  
  
“Where is this going?” Zayn asks warily.

“All I have to do is go see Harry and ‘accidentally’ press the button in the library that reveals the suit,” Niall explains, turning to Zayn. “He’s been spending all his time in there since— _you know_ , so it’s not like I have to drag him in there. If I do that, then I don’t have to explain anything, about _anything_. Harry’s the smartest in his grade; he’ll be able to figure out that his dad’s death wasn’t my fault.”

Looking unsure, Zayn nods. “Right. Of course. Foolproof plan. Only what if he assumes his dad was framed? Or that he was just holding the suit for the actual Green Goblin?”

Niall squints at him. “There are holes in the suit where the Goblin’s glider hit him,” he says. “They match Mr. Styles’s wounds, so there’s no way Harry wouldn’t figure it out. At least, I hope so.”

Zayn shakes his head, still looking worried. “I don’t know, Niall, I think you should just tell him. Like, tell him everything you told me, only with more detail. Like, like, you know that scene in _Brother Bear_ where Kenai tells Koda that he killed his mom? That’s how you need to tell him.”

Eyes still narrowed, Niall stares at Zayn. “You want me to tell Harry I’m a monster? Because I’m pretty sure that’s how Kenai told the story. I’m trying to make Harry _not_ hate me, Zayn, not the make him hate me more.”

“Oh, my god,” Zayn mutters, running his hands over his face. “No, I just meant that you need to explain it gently, but still so that he understands what you’re saying. Koda understood what Kenai was saying in like, three seconds, you need to do that with Harry.”

“Koda also ran away from Kenai and didn’t come back to him until the very end of the movie, Zayn,” Niall says. “I’m trying to _avoid_ Harry running away from me.”

Zayn opens his mouth to retaliate, but the curtain in the window twitches with movement, silencing them both. Quick as anything, Niall shoots two webs at the wall by the window and lets them pull him to it, attaching himself so he’s out of direct view. He hears the window opening, and then Safaa is there.

She says something to Zayn, quiet and in Urdu. She sounds snappish, which strikes Niall as strange considering every other time they met she didn’t speak at all. They go back and forth, until Zayn sounds like he’s getting frustrated, and Niall decides to intervene. He’s just about to drop back onto the fire escape when Safaa says, in English, “Mom wants you inside _now_ , Zayn, I’m not gonna run back and forth with your messages like a carrier pigeon.”

Zayn’s jaw drops, insulted, and Niall stifles a laugh. “Fine, then,” Zayn snaps. “I’ll be inside now, just give me a second.

Safaa says something else in Urdu, which prompts Zayn to snap something back at her, but she’s gone. Carefully, Niall drops back onto the fire escape.

“What was that all about?” he asks, amused.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “My mom wants me inside because my dad is going off on some chase or something.” He eyes Niall, waving a hand at his mask. “You might wanna get going, too.”

Niall nods, and he twists the material between his hands, suddenly nervous. There’s still so much he and Zayn haven’t said; he doesn’t want to leave him without clearing the air. But he doesn’t have a choice, apparently. Zayn’s clearly sending him off.

Swallowing hard, Niall slowly approaches him, placing his hand on Zayn’s chin when he’s close enough. He leans in, slowly enough to let Zayn turn away or push him off, but when Zayn turns his chin up for better access, he closes the gap between them. This kiss is better, in his opinion, with less tension behind it. There’s some hesitation, sure, but they’ve cleared enough of the air between them that it’s more of a _is this alright now_ hesitation rather than _Lois Lane randomly kisses Superman on rooftop_ hesitation.

He pulls back, placing one last peck on Zayn’s mouth, and smiles. “I’ll text you, alright?” Zayn nods, staring up at him, brows furrowed. Niall maintains the eye contact, broken only by the mask when he slips it back on. He slowly backs away, climbing onto the railing of the fire escape. Finally turning away, Niall shoots a web to one of the buildings further away. He’s just about to swing away when Zayn speaks.

“Hey, Spider-Man?” he says. Niall looks back at him, sees a small smile on his face. “Stay safe out there, yeah?”

Grinning, Niall says, “I’ll try, Zayn. See you around.”

And then, because he’s a dramatic teenager, he lets himself fall sideways off the railing, free-falling until the web pulls taut and he’s swinging away.

⦕⎈⦖

Niall’s spidey sense never went off, and since he didn’t have his police scanner he didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t take him long to find a group of squad cars racing down the street, sirens blaring. He follows them to a huge bank, the kind only rich people have accounts with, where a dozen more cars are parked, officers standing around with grim expressions, talking amongst each other. He drops down near where Captain Malik is talking—more like yelling—at a small group of officers. There are dozens of men and a few women dressed head to toe in black kevlar. SWAT.

They don’t notice him walking up to them until he’s standing next to the captain, arms crossed, nodding seriously. Unanimously, they all draw their weapons, aiming them at him. He raises his hands.

“Hey, I didn’t even do anything, this time,” he says.

Captain Malik releases the safety on his gun, and Niall takes a step back. “You’ve had a warrant out for your arrest since the murder of Desmond Styles, kid, there’s no way we’re letting you off easy.”

Niall sighs. “How’s this: you let me help with whatever’s going on right now and I will come with you. Voluntarily.” It kills him to say it, but it’s the only way to start making things right.

The officers all exchange looks, but Captain Malik still stares at Niall. If Zayn wasn’t lying, and he was able to piece together Niall’s absence from Harry’s place that morning with the phone call he’d overheard, then he knows who’s underneath the Spider-Man mask. He doesn’t lower his weapon, though.

“Fine,” he says, ignoring when the other officers try to dissuade him. “But don’t you try to sneak off after this is over with, you hear me? I will not hesitate to shoot you if you do.”

Niall nods hurriedly, crossing an x over his chest. “Promise. One condition, though,” he says. Captain Malik’s brows raise. “I only speak to you. No one else in the room, no one way mirrors, no cameras. Just you and me.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Please.”

Captain Malik eyes him, his expression revealing no emotion. He’s silent for long enough that the other officers start to eye him warily, until finally he nods. “Okay. Just you and me.” He puts the safety back on his gun, shoving it into his holster. The other officers follow suit, but only after Niall waves a hand at them expectantly, and even then they don’t look happy about it.

“Now, what’s going on?” Niall asks.

Rolling his eyes, Captain Malik turns to face the bank. “There’s about six men in there right now, and we believe there are at least twenty hostages.”

“Have they, um, have they set any demands?” Niall asks. He’s not really sure what he’s doing, but he’s seen enough crime shows to have an idea.

“Thirty million and an armed escort to a private airport where they have a plane waiting for them,” one of the other officers says. His name tag says Norton. Niall has to stop himself from laughing when he reads it. Norton. “You got here right on time; they were shooting at us until about ten minutes ago.”

Niall nods as if he knows what he’s doing. “So what’s the plan?”

The officers exchange a look. “None, for now,” Captain Malik says, ignoring them. “We can’t go in and risk the hostages being used as shields, but we can’t give in to their demands because there’s no way we’re letting them get away after this. That’s what we’ve been trying to figure out.” He heaves a sigh. “The only good thing is they’re trapped. We’ve got men at each entrance and exit, so there’s no way they’re getting out.”

“Oh,” Niall says, and it’s like a light bulb has gone off above his head. “I can go in, then, from one of the back doors or whatever. I’ll take them out, and then you can get the hostages to safety.”

Norton scoffs, waving a hand. “You think we hadn’t thought of that?” he asks. “They’ll notice if we get in, they’ll start killing hostages, and then we lose. Come on, kid.”

Brows raising, Niall places his hands on his hips. He regrets his mask for a moment, considering Norton can’t see the look he’s giving him with it on. “I didn’t say we. I said me. You can’t go in without being noticed, but I can. If I go in alone, I can separate them, take them out individually. Give me a thirty minutes, tops, and I promise you—”

“There is no way we are sending you in there alone, kid,” Norton says dismissively. “We’re looking a professionals here, okay, these people know what they’re doing; there’s no way you can take them all on alone.”

Niall opens his mouth to answer, but Captain Malik holds up a hand, looking pensive. “If you go in, do you think you could get the hostages out?” he asks. Niall shrugs.

“It depends on where they are,” he says honestly. “If the guys holding them hostage are anywhere near them then they’re bound to notice the hostages going missing, no matter how long I take to get them out.”

Captain Malik sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he says. “You go in, we give you a half hour to deal with the suspects. If you’re not out that door,” he points to the front door of the bank, “in thirty minutes _exactly_ then we rule you out as a loss and we go in.”

Saluting him, Niall says, “Aye aye, cap’n. Now which door am I going in through?”

“Not yet,” Captain Malik says. He jerks his head in the direction of a van, signaling Niall to follow him over. They climb in, and the officers inside all drop their jaws at Niall’s presence. He waves.

“Hello, everyone,” he says. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today—”

“The kid needs a comm,” Captain Malik interrupts, sending Niall a stern look only a dad could wield so perfectly. “It needs to stay on him, but due to his choice of clothing, he has no pockets or belt.” He turns to Niall. “It’ll also probably be uncomfortable underneath the mask. Any suggestions?”

Making a face, Niall approaches the small space in the van with a few comms laying on it. “You still have those radio things?” he asks. “Why haven’t you switched over to in ears yet?”

“Well,” Captain Malik says, “we aren’t exactly Stark Industries; there’s no budget for it.” He frowns. “And S.H.I.E.L.D. never wanted to give us any before they were dismantled.”

Niall squints. “Aren’t they back, though?”

“No,” Captain Malik answers, deadpan. Niall shrugs, picking up a comm. “You won’t be able to wear one of those normally, unless you put pants on or something.”

“Gross,” Niall mutters, picking at the earpiece. “Anyone got any scissors?” Someone hands him a pair, and he mumbles a thanks, cutting the wires that connect the earpiece to the transmitter into three pieces. “Tweezers?” With the pair he’s given, he twists the two short wires together, so the transmitter is connected to the mic by an inch of wire. He hooks the device around his neck, pinning the mic to the collar of his suit and shoving his hand up his mask to push the earpiece into his left ear. Pushing the on button, he nods to the woman working the radios, who mumbles a test phrase. The comm works perfectly, and Niall spreads his hands. “Ta da.”

Captain Malik stares at him, expression unreadable. “You’re paying for that.”

“What?” Niall asks, voice cracking. “I didn’t break it, I just made it so I can use it!”

Unfazed, the captain turns to one of the other officers in the van. “Have we heard anything from them since the ceasefire?”

The officer shakes her head. “No, sir. We’ve lost visual, as well; it seems like they’ve taken out all the security cameras except one, but no one is in that room.”

Niall raises a hand. “Can I go in, now?”

Captain Malik gives him a look. “You think a vest would slow you down?”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Niall says. He steps back, poking at the comm in his ear. “I’m going in, okay; I’ll be out in like, an hour.”

“Half hour,” Captain Malik calls, but Niall is already halfway to the bank entrance. He jogs around to the back, where a group of officers is huddled around a door, guns raised. Niall waves, not stopping on his way to the door. He opens it slowly, surprised that it isn’t locked. The officers don’t stop him, so he assumes the captain already told them the plan.

The hall he ends up in is short, and he can see the light from the main room where it connects to the hall. He creeps forward, keeping an ear out. The suspects are yelling at the hostages loudly, telling them to stay still, to stop crying, to do what they say. Niall frowns. They do not seem pleasant.

When he reaches the end of the hall, Niall peeks around the corner, trying to get some sort of visual. The comm crackles unexpectedly, and he flinches at the sudden noise, ducking back into the hall as the captain starts speaking.

“You make it in, kid?” he asks. Niall reaches up to the mic on his collar, ducking his chin.

“Yeah, I’m in the hallway just off the main room,” he says. “Haven’t seen them yet, but these guys do not sound happy.”

The captain scoffs. “I don’t care about whether or not they’re happy. Do what you need to do to get them out, you hear me?”

Niall sighs. “Sir, yes sir.”

The shouting stops for a second, so all Niall hears is the whimpering coming from the hostages, and then one female voice speaks out. “Who’s there?” Niall doesn’t answer, obviously. “Gordon, why isn’t anyone watching the fucking back door? No, I don’t wanna hear it, go check. Moron.”

Stepping back, Niall preps himself for when Gordon comes into the hall. The light in the hall is blocked by a shadow, a huge shadow, one that actually makes Niall a little nervous. He backs up a few more steps, and as soon as the man comes into view, he shoots a web at his face, covering his eyes. The man shouts in surprise, but it’s cut off when Niall sends another web at his mouth. A third web is used to rip the handgun out of the man’s grip, and a fourth is used to bring the man stumbling to his knees. Niall uses his gun to smack him in the head, knocking him out. Spinning the gun, Niall mimes holstering it, the way they do in those old Western movies.

“Gordon, stop fucking around!” the woman yells. Straightening his shoulders, Niall saunters out of the hallways, hand held up. At once, four people lift their guns at him. The only one who doesn’t is the woman, who stares at him.

“I know, I know,” Niall says, shrugging. “A terrible introduction, really, usually there’s some sort of action music or something, but the captain refused to let me—okay,” he ducks, jumping behind a desk as a volley of bullets is aimed at him. He throws his arms over his head as the wood splinters, and when the bullets stop he pokes his head out, ducking again straightaway as the men shoot at him again.

The hostages scream, and the woman yells at them to shut up. The bullets stop flying again, and Niall takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. There were only four men shooting at him, two somewhat close to the door and the other two flanking the line of hostages along the wall. The woman, obviously in charge, was stood in the middle of the room, but Niall couldn’t see if she had a gun or not.

He takes quick breaths, counting to hype himself up, and launches himself over the desk. Arms crossed, he sends two webs at the men closest to the door, pulling _hard_ and knocking the guns out of their hands. In a new move he had to practice for three straight weeks to perfect, he wraps the excess web around his wrists and swings the guns across the room in one move. One of the guns crashes through the window, and Niall grimaces, but the other hits one of the men in the head, knocking him out. Without pause, Niall leaps across the room to where the men are standing by the hostages, rips the gun out of one of their hands, and yells _yeet_ as he throws it at the other. It’s only a handgun, not an assault rifle like the first two, but it sends the other man to the floor, and Niall elbows the man in front of him in the face, punching him when he kneels over and effectively knocking him out.

With all but one man left without a gun and two men knocked out, things are significantly easier.

Niall jumps over to the man he threw the gun at, standing above him and quickly webbing up his arms and legs, then sending a web at the ceiling and connecting the man to it so he’s hanging three feet off the ground, upside down.

Grinning, Niall turns to the last man standing, who looks to the woman, wide eyed.

“Well?” she asks, irritated. She tilts her head in Niall’s direction, expectant.

The man sighs unenthusiastically, and runs at Niall. Shooting a web at the rifle dropped by the man hanging from the ceiling, Niall swings, watching as it catches the man in the temple and he drops with a satisfying _thud_ . He turns to the woman, hands on his hip. He’s barely even broken a sweat, and it’s been _maybe_ five minutes since he came in.

“I accept your surrender,” Niall says.

The woman laughs, lips blood red. How typical, Niall thinks. “No,” she says. She holds up a remote, pointing to the line of hostages behind Niall. For the first time, he notices the junk sitting on each of their chests. “Three pounds of C4 strapped to every one of them. I flip this switch, and, well.” She smiles, shrugging, and turns to a second hallway, behind the cluster of desks in the main room. “You’re gonna go down there, you’re gonna get me money, and you’re gonna get me out of here. Safely.” She raises her eyebrows at him expectantly.

Jaw working, Niall nods. He scratches his head, glancing down at the hostages. There’s a kid, about six or seven, staring up at him, face red from crying. Swallowing, Niall turns back to the woman.

“Yeah, so,” he tisks, shrugging. “I would, but. I don’t really want to.”

Grinning maniacally, the woman pulls a gun out from behind her, aiming it at Niall. The hostages cry out, but Niall doesn’t look at them. “You don’t have a choice here, _Spider-Man_ . You’re fucked.”  
  
“No!” the kid cries out, tears running down his face, and Niall sees the woman’s grin fall, her aim switching to the kid instead. Niall steps in front of him, but she doesn’t waver.

“Shut up, kid!” she shouts. “You wanna lose your mom, too?”

Squinting, Niall takes a step towards her. “What did you say?”

Jaw clenching, the woman uses the hand holding the remote to point at a body lying by the door, a pool of blood surrounding it. Niall hadn’t even noticed.

“Daddy tried to play hero and paid the price,” she snaps, pointing her gun back at Niall. “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. The money.

Gritting his teeth, Niall nods, waving an arm to the hallway. “Lead the way.” The captain says something into the comm, but he ignores it.  
  
“Oh, no,” the woman laughs. “So you can knock me out from behind? I don’t think so. You first.”

Mind racing, Niall walks slowly to the hall, and he realizes that he’ll have to pass right in front of her to get there. When he’s right next to her, he moves quickly, grabbing the remote out of her hand and sending a web at the gun so it flies across the room, sticking to the wall. He rams his forehead into hers, sending her to the floor, and he sticks the remote to the ceiling, standing above the woman and grabbing her shirt in his hands.

“Looks like you lose,” he says, false sympathy coloring his voice. Unfazed, the woman grins, looking dazed.

“At least I’m not the only one,” she says. “Junior over there seems pretty distraught—” she cuts off, groaning as Niall punches her. Her head rolls on the floor, but she still grins at him, teeth bloody from the hit. “What, you miss your daddy, kid?” Gritting his teeth, Niall hits her again. And again. And again, until she’s knocked out. He pushes himself off her roughly, flexing his fist.

The hostages cry out when he turns to them and he raises his hands. “I’m gonna go get the cops, alright, just wait here,” he says, and runs out of the building. He’s not two feet out the door when bullets start flying at him, and he ducks, throwing his arms over his head. “Whoa, what the hell!” he cries, shielding his face awkwardly. He hears the captain bark orders, and the bullets stop. Straightening, he holds out his arms, like _really?_

Jogging up to him, Captain Malik holds out a hand in apology. “They were ordered to shoot on sight, calm down,” he says. He nods to the bank front behind Niall. “You get the suspects? We saw an assault rifle come flying out not five minutes ago.”

Niall nods. “Yeah, there were six, like you said. Five men, one woman; she seemed to be in charge, she was giving the orders. The um, the hostages all have bombs on their chests, though, so you might wanna deal with that first.

Nodding, the captain turns to the small army of officers behind him, barking more orders. A group of officers all march into the bank, official and serious, and Captain Malik turns back to Niall, expression unreadable.

“Good job, Spider-Man,” he says. Niall nods again, suddenly exhausted. His knuckles are aching, more so than usual after a fight. “Why don’t you drop your comm off with Garcia, then wait by my cruiser; I shouldn’t be long.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Niall says, saluting weakly. Captain Malik rolls his eyes, but Niall ignores it, doing as he says. He apologizes to Garcia for ruining the comm, and asks which one is the captain’s cruiser.

The doors are unlocked when he gets there, so he opens the back one and lies down, calves hanging out of the car, and closes his eyes, throwing an arm over his face. Niall actually dozes off until his legs are jostled, and he startles, sitting up. The captain is staring down at him skeptically, arm on the door.

“Sup?” Niall asks groggily, rubbing a hand over his face.

“One of the perps said they had a higher authority,” Captain Malik says. His brows pull together. “He said they were hired by the Styles kid.”

Niall frowns. “Harry? Why would he do that?”

Captain Malik shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m thinking he wanted to draw you out. He’s a teenager; you all have a penchant for dramatics.”

“Hey,” Niall says, mildly insulted. He knows it’s true, though, so he doesn’t fight too hard. He sighs heavily, standing. “So I guess this means I have to go talk to him, then?”

“Absolutely not,” Captain Malik snaps. “You can’t just expect to be allowed to talk to the son of the man whose murder you are the number one suspect.”

Niall grimaces. “Oh, yeah.” He sighs, stretching. “So, what’s the plan, Captain?” he asks. “You taking me in or what?”

Sighing, Captain Malik runs a hand down his face. “How bad of a cop would I be if I said no?” he asks, muffled by his hand. Niall’s brows jump up. “Listen, kid, we’ve been after you since you showed up, but. I—I think we might be better off with you on our side.”

Frowning, Niall tilts his head. “What about Desmond Styles?” he asks. “You just said I was the main suspect in his murder; aren’t you technically breaking the rules by letting me go?”

Captain Malik shrugs, looking conflicted. “Probably. But taking you in would mean putting you through processing. Which means taking off the mask.” He looks away, expression going sad for some reason. “I don’t think we’re ready for that.”

“Who’s we?” Niall asks. “The cops and stuff, or the city? Or like, you and me?”

“All of the above, kid,” Captain Malik says, clapping a hand to Niall’s shoulder. “Go on, Spider-Man. Go home, get some rest.” He frowns at Niall, pointing at him in that fatherly way of his. “If I find out you went to the Styles’ residence instead of straight home I will put out a fresh warrant for your arrest, you hear me?”

Grinning, Niall salutes him. “Sir, yes sir.” He ducks out from under the captain’s arm, backing away from the cruiser. “Thanks, cap.”

With a web shot at the nearest building, he’s off. Maybe he will go home. He’s tired.

⦕⎈⦖

So, he doesn’t go home. Not his home, at least.

Zayn rolls his eyes when he sees Niall outside on the fire escape again, not even bothering to come out when he opens the window. He holds up his phone.

“Have you been paying attention to the group chat?” he asks. Niall frowns, shaking his head, and pulls his phone out from the front of his suit. He made a little pocket for it a while ago, after having to fish it out of his boxers one too many times.

When he clicks on the home button, there’s a dozen unread texts cluttering his lockscreen. Most of them are from Louis and Zayn, trying to figure something out, but when he scrolls down to the oldest notification he sees it’s from Harry, and is the source of Louis and Zayn’s frantic texting. Liam has one message, just a simple _im so confused guys come on_.

Harry’s text reads _i’m gonna do it tonight_.

Niall pulls his mask up over his face, letting it rest on his head. “What does he mean?”

Zayn shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s been talking about having some sort of plan he’s been working on since—since his dad. I don’t know, man, but something doesn’t seem right.”  
  
Brows pulling together, Niall frowns down at his phone. He’s been mostly avoiding Harry since his dad died, not really wanting to hear Harry plot to kill Spider-Man, although now that he thinks about it, it’s all starting to add up. Harry hires criminals to rob a bank and pull Spider-Man out of his cave, probably wanted them to kill him. Unless he really planned on doing it himself, which would explain why he sent that weird text.

Groaning, Niall rubs a hand over his eyes. He winces at the twinge in his knuckles, frowning down at them. Zayn purses his lips, grabbing Niall’s hand.

“Why is there blood on your hand, Niall?” he asks. “Like, why is there literal blood on your hand?”

Niall shakes his head, pulling his hand back. “I just—I lost control, alright?” He shrugs. “The lady robber at the bank killed this kid’s dad, and she was _laughing_ about it, and I just. I lost it.”

Zayn frowns, eyes still on Niall’s hand. “You shouldn’t ever let go like that,” he says. “If you hurt someone, it’ll be your fault. And that’s not what you’re supposed to do, you know? You’re supposed to help people, not hurt them.” He clears his throat, shaking his head. “Just, just go see if Harry is okay, alright? Make sure he’s not doing anything stupid.”

⦕⎈⦖

Niall quietly pries open the window he came in through the last time, landing lightly on the floor of the library. It’s full of shadows, the weak light from outside not enough to illuminate it completely. Swallowing hard, Niall steps further into the room. It’s empty, surprisingly; he expected Harry to be waiting for him the way Zayn had said.

He’s almost to the fireplace when the hairs on his neck stand up, and he spins, finding Harry sprawled in a chair in the corner, so dark Niall didn’t notice him at first. His head is thrown back, his arms hanging over the armrests. He looks like he’s passed out, but his eyes are wide open.

There’s a glass of scotch hanging from one hand, an empty syringe in the other.

“Harry?” Niall says, taking a step forward. “You alright?”

Head jerking up, Harry grins. It looks nothing like the usual carefree grins Harry’s always sporting, all sharp teeth and shadows. Niall swallows hard.

“Spider-Man. How nice of you to join me,” Harry says, and even his voice is different. Deeper, more gravelly, like—

Niall’s eyes widen. He sounds just like the Goblin.

“So nice of you to finally join me,” Harry says, acting as if nothing is amiss. He lifts his glass, taking a sip of the scotch. “I knew those guys wouldn’t be able to take you on, petty criminals they were.” He shrugs, careless. “No matter. I have you here, now.”

“Harry, what did you do?” Niall asks quietly.

Harry smirks. “What do you think?” He holds up the empty syringe. “My father tried to hide his greatest creation from me, but what he didn’t realize was that he was using subjects that were too old. Namely him.” Standing, he tosses the syringe onto a nearby table. Niall flinches as the clatter echoes in the otherwise silent library. Not even the sound of the traffic below reaches them up here. “I have to say, Spider-Man, you’re a worthy adversary. Too bad you’ve only faced the original Goblin. In the right body, in a _young enough_ body, the Goblin serum is,” he laughs breathlessly, impressed with whatever is running through his veins. “It’s perfect.”

He throws his glass at Niall, stronger than Harry has ever thrown anything, ever. Ducking, Niall looks back to where the glass has shattered against the wall, leaving it stained with the scotch. He turns back to Harry, who’s grinning down at his hands.

“You, uh, you thinking about joining football now, Harry?” Niall asks weakly.

The glee quickly drains from Harry’s face, replaced with a nasty scowl. “You don’t talk to me,” he snaps. “You killed my father, you probably wanted to kill me.” He points at the painting, where Niall knows the Goblin suit is hiding. “You tried to stop the smartest man in the country from doing what was best for his company!”

Niall winces, shrugging a bit. “I think Tony Stark is actually the smartest man in the country. There was that whole feature on it in TIME, remember—” he ducks as a table flies at him. The table crashes against another chair, the wood splintering. Niall holds his hands up peacefully. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Harry doesn’t answer, chest heaving. “Look. I didn’t kill your father; he tried to kill me and I jumped out of the way. His glider was supposed to hit me but it hit him when I moved. It was an accident, Harry, trust me.” He shakes his head, frustrated with the sudden tears pooling in his eyes. “We—we were fighting, you know, the usual, and when he directed his glider at me I didn’t think. I didn’t realize that jumping out of the way would kill him, Harry, I swear. It—it all happened so quickly, I couldn’t stop it, but I swear that if I could, I would bring him back. I know how much he mattered to you, I’m sure we could have figured out some way to get the Goblin stuff out of him. You need to believe me, I never wanted anyone to die—”

“Liar!” Harry yells, taking a step forward. He’s shaking with anger, and Niall has to look up to keep the tears from overflowing. “You killed him on purpose, you wanted to kill me, but you failed, Spider-Man, you _failed_ , because now the Goblin has what he needs and you won’t be able to stop him this time, you hear me?”

The door on the opposite side of the room opens, and Mrs. Styles peers into the room, looking frightened. “Harry?” she asks tearfully. “Harry, please stop yelling, this isn’t—”

“Go back to your room, mother,” Harry snaps, not taking his eyes off Niall. Niall glances back at Mrs. Styles, who is staring wide-eyed at Niall.

“Spider-Man?” she asks hesitantly. “Are you here to help Harry?”  
  
“GO AWAY, MOTHER,” Harry yells, and Mrs. Styles flinches, but she doesn’t look away from Niall.

“Please help him, Spider-Man,” she says quickly. “He doesn’t know what his father was, but you do, right? You can help him see what his father was, you can help him—” she cries out as the syringe Harry was holding impales itself an inch above where her hand rests on the door. With one last betrayed look at Harry, she disappears back into her room.

Niall looks over to Harry, disgusted with how the Goblin serum has changed him. Harry _loves_ Anne, has never even snapped at her before today, and yet here he is, throwing sharp objects at her. Whatever is in that Desmond Styles put in the Goblin serum, it needs to be destroyed. Or whatever a superhero who actually knows what the _fuck_ he’s doing would say.

Not to shit on himself, but Niall bets that the Black Widow would know how to fix this. She truly is the better arachnid in every way.

“Harry, whatever you think I did to your father is wrong, okay, but I’m not here for that,” Niall says. “I’m here for you, because you need to be protected from the Goblin. He controlled your father’s mind, and he’ll try to control yours, too.”

Grinning crookedly, Harry shakes his head. “Try? Spider-Man, he already is controlling my mind.” His grin wavers, and his voice goes normal as he says, “I think—I don’t think he’ll ever stop.” He frowns, looking past Niall at the door his mom disappeared behind. “Mom?”

Concerned, Niall takes a cautious step forward, but Harry shakes his head, hissing. It’s like he’s a completely different person when he says, “Screw this. I’m done playing around; it’s time we ended this.” He stalks across the room to where the painting is, looking determined, but Niall shoots two webs at his hands, trying to pull him back. Harry growls, pulling against the webs, and Niall stumbles, sliding across the carpet. Whatever’s in the serum, it’s making Harry stronger than he’s ever been.

Gritting his teeth, Niall digs his heels into the carpet, adjusting his stance so he has a better grip, and transfers one of the webs to his left hand, so he’s holding both together, before he shoots a web at Harry’s leg, yanking it out from under him.

Harry fall flat on his face, and Niall would laugh but it’s not really funny when Harry turns to glare at him, snarling. He tries to crawl across the floor, but Niall’s still go him webbed up so he thrashes, furious. With a shout, he rips one of the webs off his hands, reaching underneath a coffee table—how many damn tables are in this room, Niall thinks distantly—and pulling out some sort of bomb. It’s not one Niall’s seen before, not like the pumpkins the Goblin was so fond of using, and he loosens his grip, distracted, when Harry presses a button on it.

The sound the bomb emits is piercing, shattering Niall’s eardrums. He claps his hands over his ears, letting go of the webs, and is in so much pain from the sound he doesn’t notice Harry's gotten up until he rams into him, pushing Niall back until he’s falling out the window he foolishly left open. Niall reaches out, trying to catch himself, but all he can see is Harry grinning darkly from the window.

Niall reaches the ground faster than he expected, crashing into the hood of a car and sending it so far inwards he doesn’t think the owner will actually be able to fix it. He groans, frozen from the pain, and groans louder when he hears the whoop of a police siren.

“Spider-Man!” he hears, and he frowns. He knows that voice. When he looks up he’s proven right; Zayn is sitting in the passenger seat of his dad’s cruiser, the window rolled down so he can look out.

Wincing, Niall pries himself up off the car, staggering when he lands on the street. Zayn jumps out of the car, steadying Niall, who pushes him away.

“What the hell are you doing here, bro?” he asks, folding over in pain.

“Harry’s mom called me to see if I could calm him down,” Zayn explains, hands on his hips. “Since Spider-Man couldn’t.”

Captain Malik approaches them as more police cruisers pull up onto the street. “You two know each other?” he asks warily.

“No,” Niall says, at the same time Zayn says, “Yes.”

They glare at each other, only Niall’s isn’t as effective considering his mask doesn’t really express any emotion. To make up for it, he gives Zayn a light shove in the arm. Zayn rolls his eyes, sucking on his teeth, and Captain Malik pulls him away from Niall with a protective sort of look on his face. Insulted, Niall stands up straight, but he has to fold back over when it hurts too much to stand.

“You alright, son?” Captain Malik asks. Niall nods, ears still ringing. The bomb must still be open upstairs, because he can still hear the noise, and it’s driving him insane.

“Listen,” Niall says quickly, sucking it up and standing. “This probably isn’t the best time to say it, but Desmond Styles was the Green Goblin.” He keeps talking, rushing over Captain Malik’s startled expression. “I know, but he made some sort of serum that made him stronger, only I think it also made him crazy because he ended up with this split personality, almost, and he tried to kill me only when I jumped out of the way his glider hit him instead, and now Harry’s taken the same serum only apparently it works better on him because he’s younger or something, so you won’t be able to take him on yourself, especially if you were never able to get the actual Goblin before.”

Dazed, Captain Malik nods, and he’s just about to say something but Niall cuts him off, staring hard at the penthouse. The windows are shaking, and he thinks he can hear them cracking, only he can’t be sure considering the damage his ears just took because of the bomb that’s still going off—

They all duck as the windows of the penthouse shatter from the piercing sound, Niall jumping over Zayn to protect him from the falling glass. The commotion is so distracting Niall almost misses it when Harry flies out, decked out in the Goblin’s uniform—sans the mask—and flying away on the glider.

“Stay here!” Niall shouts over Zayn, hands pushing at him. Without listening to what Zayn is yelling back at him, he shoots a web at Zayn’s hand, sticking him to the cruiser he came in. “I can’t have you suddenly deciding to join in, bro, not tonight.” Ignoring Zayn’s cries of outrage, he shoots a web at the top of a nearby building and swings off.

Niall follows Harry, swinging between buildings as Harry flies to the power grid running the city. He’s not quite sure what it is Harry is planning, but he knows that as long as the serum is running through Harry’s veins he has to stop him. If Harry is trying to kill people, or connect something to the power grid, and he succeeds, who knows what could happen. The Goblin had never expressed any desire to take over the city when he was in Desmond Styles, but perhaps he’d grown more ambitious since meeting Harry. Which would be weird, but. Niall’s whole life is weird, so he’s not going to question it.

He shouts as Harry sends one of his dad’s pumpkin bombs flying at him, pulling on his web so his trajectory changes, and he barely misses the explosion, feels the heat sear through his suit as he flies past it. Shouting a curse at Harry, he shoots a web at his glider so he’s hanging from it. Niall crawls up the web quickly before Harry can notice, and he pulls himself up onto the glider.

Harry shouts out in surprise, sending the glider sideways. They crash into a building, sending bricks and rubble down to the street below them. Sliding along the building, Niall pulls Harry upright so the glider can straighten out. Growling, Harry shoves Niall off the glider. Niall shouts, unable to catch his bearings as he falls, but he lands on his back no more than a few seconds after being shoved. He looks around to see giant transformers standing tall around him. They’ve made it to the power grid.

“Oh,” he says, relieved. He wasn’t looking forward to being a squashed bug on a windshield. Arachnid. Whatever. The flash of the glider’s engines appear above him, and he cries out a startled _oh, shit!_ Before rolling to the side. Harry lands, hard, in the spot Niall was just lying in, and Niall gapes at him. “Are you _trying_ to kill me?” he snaps.

Grinning sharply, Harry stares right at him when he says, simply, “Yes.”

“Oh,” Niall says again. “Well, you know, honesty is the best policy, I guess. Although I would appreciate you not—” He cuts off with a strangled cry as some sort of throwing star is shot at him. Niall leaps out of the way, but it pauses in its flight, hovering in midair, and splits into three more, careening at him from behind. Twisting in the air, Niall can’t help but think this is getting a little too _Matrix_ for his liking. Obviously Harry has been playing with his dad’s old weapons, and not in a good way.

Just as Niall turns back to Harry, he’s thrown back by a pumpkin bomb detonating three feet away from him. He yelps, hitting one of the transformers and sliding down. Harry flies at him slowly, still grinning darkly. Sitting at the bottom of the transformer, Niall shoots webs at Harry, hoping to blind him or knock him off his glider or _something_ , but Harry dodges them easily, still approaching Niall until he’s stood right in front him. He crouches, wrapping a hand around Niall’s throat and lifting him off the ground.

Harry steps off his glider, still holding Niall by the throat. Choking, Niall wraps his hands around Harry’s, trying to make him let go. Undeterred, Harry steps forward slowly, until Niall’s back is pressed up against one of the transformers. He grins at Niall sharply, and for the first time all night Niall actually begins to think that Harry might actually be hard to beat. His vision starts to blacken around the edges, and he kicks against the transformer behind him, hoping to gain some sort of purchase.

“You should’ve stayed out of my way, Spider-Man,” Harry says, baring his teeth. “My father knew what he was doing, and you only delayed the inevitable—”

He’s cut off as a police cruiser comes speeding onto the power grid, lights flashing and sirens blaring. They both look over, shocked at the unexpected arrival, but when it doesn’t stop the grin falls from Harry’s face.

“What the—” he says, but he’s interrupted once again when the cruiser crashes into him and knocks him dozens of feet away, barely missing Niall, who falls to the side on his knees. He rubs at his throat, eyes watering, but he scrambles to his feet when Zayn steps out of the driver’s side.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Niall snaps. They both run at each other, worried and irritated at the other, and Niall grabs Zayn’s arms, trying to pull him back, away from where Harry is lying unconscious.

Zayn rolls his eyes, pulling his arms out of Niall’s grip. “You really thought I was going to stay behind just because you told me to?”

“Uh, yeah!” Niall says. “This is so dangerous, bro, why would you even _think_ about following me to fight some enhanced creep—”

“That’s not some creep, Niall, it’s _Harry_ ,” Zayn says sharply, glancing back at where Harry is lying. “He’s your best friend; you can’t fight him the way you fight everyone else.”

Niall scoffs, running his hands over his head. “What the hell else am I supposed to do, Zayn?” He waves a hand in Harry’s direction. “He’s fighting me like he would fight anyone else, so pulling my punches won’t exactly do me any good.”

Rolling his eyes again, Zayn shoves Niall. “That’s because he doesn’t know who you are—”

They both turn back to Harry sharply when they hear him groaning, only to see him struggling to his feet. Niall grabs at Zayn awkwardly, pushing him towards the control room. “Go—go hide,” he says. Nodding, Zayn swallows hard.

“Yeah,” he says, backing up. “Hide.”

They trip over each other in their haste to get to the control room, running from where Harry is shouting incoherently. Niall doesn’t even pause when he hears the glider’s engines running, although his senses start to go haywire. His eyes go wide, and he turns sharply just in time to duck as Harry flies at them. He tugs at Zayn to bring him down, but Zayn is too slow, and Harry snatches him into the air, flying higher than he has so far.

Shouting, Niall follows beneath him, keeping an eye on the tight grip Harry has on Zayn. If he drops Zayn, Niall will catch him. He has to.

Crawling up the outside of the clock tower, Niall shouts at Harry. “Put him down, Harry, come on!”

Hissing, Harry looks between Zayn and Niall, obviously confused. “Why are you here?” he asks Zayn, teeth bared. Zayn shakes his head, eyes wide, and Harry’s own eyes widen at the realization. He looks back down to where Niall has just made it to the top of the clock tower’s glass cover, arms outstretched to shoot at him. “Niall?”

Ignoring the discovery, Niall stands in the center of the glass dome, heart racing as each one of his webs miss Harry’s glider. “Put him down, Harry!” Niall calls up. “This is between you and me. You wanna fight, fight me! Let him go!” Harry laughs down at him, teeth bared.

“Fine,” he says, and promptly lets go of Zayn. Niall shouts, jumping into the air. He meets Zayn halfway, wrapping his limbs around him to protect him from the impact of the fall as they shatter through the glass. Niall lands inside the clock on his back, gasping in pain as Zayn stares down at him, eyes wide. 

“Are you okay?” he asks Zayn, who shakes his head quickly. They both whip their heads to the side when something drops onto the work platform next to them, and Niall twists them away when he realizes it’s one of Harry’s bombs. When it explodes, it sends them flying through the small space of the clock tower. Niall lands heavily on a cog, rolling over when Zayn shouts and catching him by the hand. “I got you, Zayn. I’m gonna put you down right here, okay?” He lets Zayn down onto a cog and he nods, staring up at Niall with those big round eyes of his, and Niall takes a very short, very relieved breath.

Which is, of course, when Harry comes flying in. Niall jumps up, using the wall of the tower to launch him over Harry’s glider. He bounces off the walls, trying to dizzy Harry as he whirls around. When he looks disoriented enough, Niall jumps onto Harry’s back. He wraps an arm around his throat, pulling until Harry sends them flying backwards into the wall. Niall grunts, pulling himself out of the brick and jumping at Harry once again. He shoots a web at the wall, swinging around until he’s in front of Harry and kicking him off his glider.

Harry goes flying, landing on one of the platforms with a hard thud. He doesn’t move, and Niall takes a moment to grin at himself until the glider goes haywire—flying straight toward Zayn. It knocks into the cluster of cogs he’s standing on, sending them all into a freefall. Shouting, Niall sends another web at Zayn and jumps down to a lower cog, nodding when Zayn stares up at him.

“It’s alright, Zayn,” he calls down, already pulling him up. He feels the hairs on the back of neck stand up and whips to the side, grunting as Harry jumps on him with a shout. He slams Niall bodily onto the cog they’re on, sending Zayn falling through the air. Niall grits his teeth, tightening his grip on the web, and he moves to punch Harry but Harry brings a foot down onto his wrist, jolting slightly to the side as the cog turns with a new minute. He pulls out some sort of blade, trying to cut Niall, but he moves his head at the last second, bringing up his free hand and palming Harry’s face, trying to push him away.

Pulling Niall’s hand away, Harry brings his head down hard and butts his forehead against Niall’s. Grunting, Niall punches him, but it barely affects Harry, who just cackles and slashes at Niall. He snarls when Niall webs his hand to another cog, using his other hand to choke Niall, teeth bared. Choking, Niall sends a web through one of the holes in a cog behind Harry, wrapping the excess length around his neck. When another minute passes, Harry’s head is pulled back as the web wraps tighter around his neck and they turn once more. With Harry’s grip loosening around his neck, Niall glances down at where Zayn is trying to pull himself up on the web. A piece of debris from the glass dome falls towards him and he shouts, ducking, sending the web into a swing.

“The web, Niall!” he calls, pointing to where it folds over the cog and into a rut, coming closer to the next part of the gear train with each passing second—literally. Mind racing, Niall sticks his foot into another part of the train, grunting when the whole things jimmies, shaking as Niall tries to keep his foot in. The whole system groans, trying to mark a passing minute and almost crushing Niall’s foot. Harry’s hand is still wrapped around his neck, and Niall watches as the cog his foot is stuck in sparks. He glances back down at Zayn, who calls out once, a small, “Niall?”

The sound sends a rush of fear through Niall, zipping down his back as the system groans loudly. He turns back to where his foot is caught, and screams _no!_ when the cog breaks, turning one last time as the entire gear train collapses. The web keeping Zayn up snaps, and the one choking Harry pulls him across the tower. Ignoring Harry, Niall jumps down after Zayn, shooting a web to catch him.

The thing about the spider bite, Niall knows, is it gave him unnatural powers because of what his dad did to those first experiments. Ever since Niall was bit it’s like everything’s been sped up, especially when his adrenaline is spiked and his heart is racing. He’s just like a spider, moving a million miles a second as he fights or runs or swings through the air.

This time is not like that. It’s almost in slow motion that he sees the web soar out of his shooter, grasping at Zayn like his own hand would if he were close enough. Zayn reaches out to him, brown eyes wet as he falls, surrounded by wayward cogs and bars. Niall sees a pipe stretching across the tower, grabs it at the same time the web catches Zayn, and feels the tug that lets him know Zayn’s exerted the length of the web. He disappears momentarily as the debris around him hits the ground, and Niall stares down at him, hoping they don’t hit Zayn hard enough to hurt him. When the coast is clear, Niall breaths out a relieved laugh and ties the web to the pipe and lets go, landing gently next to where Zayn is swinging, still on the web.

His eyes are closed, his limbs loose like the dramatic flower he is. Shaking his head, Niall rips his mask off, a chuckle caught in his throat.

“Come on, Zayn, it’s over,” he says, but when Zayn doesn’t answer him he tosses his mask to the side and quickly grabs him, disconnecting the web. “Hey, hey come on. Wake up, Zayn.” He brings them down to the floor, bringing a gloved hand up to Zayn’s cheek. “Hey.” He brushes some of his hair away. “Zayn, hey.” Gritting his teeth, he squeezes his shut for a moment, turning his head. He swallows hard, feeling the heat come in behind his eyes. “Hey, come on. Come on, Zayn, wake up.” Shaking his head, Niall sniffs in hard. “Okay, just—stay with me, alright, stay—stay with me. _Zayn_ . Stay with me.” Sighing, he runs a hand through Zayn’s hair, blinking away tears. He chokes on a sob, shaking his head again. “ _No_. Zayn.”

A small drop of blood slowly drips out of Zayn’s nose. Niall sobs, burying his head in Zayn’s shoulder.

_“Please.”_

⦕⎈⦖

The funeral is a bleak affair, despite it being a beautiful day. Zayn’s family all stand together, crying, and Niall is too much of a coward to approach them. He can’t even look at them, not when Zayn’s dad, kind but stoic Yaser, is crying the loudest of them all, hand over his face and tucked into his wife’s shoulder.

Zayn told him, once, that all Yaser ever wanted was to keep his family safe. That he started his police training when Trisha told him she was pregnant with Doniya because all he ever wanted was to protect his family, to make sure nothing would get to them. It’s sobering, knowing that Yaser Malik accomplished so much only because of his one goal. And even then he couldn’t meet it.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Niall blinks back a few tears. Theo is getting restless, pulling on his and Denise’s hands and looking up at them curiously. Poor kid doesn’t even realize what’s going on. Niall had almost broken down right in front of him when Theo asked why Zayn wasn’t coming round the apartment anymore.

Worse yet is Harry.

Whatever he’d taken the night of their fight has worn off, but he’s still escorted by guards, dressed to the nines in a slick suit, the image of perfection. He looks just like the heir of a multi-million dollar company should look, straight out the pages of a magazine. The only thing ruining it is the electric collar around his throat, the cuffs holding his hands and feet together.

He’s crying almost as loudly as Yaser.

Niall knows it’s not totally his fault. Whatever serum had ruined his father had ruined him, too, even if it was just for the one night. He’d woken up the next morning, webbed up in the clock tower with a note Niall had written— _it was me_ —and immediately broken into hysterics, remembering the night before the way someone with a hangover would; distantly, not entirely sure it was him who made all those decisions. His earnestness and the fact that he still had traces of the serum are the only thing keeping him out of the chair.

It’s not even raining.

Unable to take it all—the crying, the Iman leading the prayers, the birds chirping in the trees as if the isn’t the worst day of Niall’s life—Niall gently pulls his hand out of Theo’s, ignoring his and Denise’s curious looks, and walks away. He ignores Denise when she quietly calls his name, he ignores the looks the other funeral-goers give him. He doesn’t care. It’s too much, knowing that this is all his fault, that Zayn would be on his way to England right now, if it weren’t for him. If he’d made him stay behind somehow, webbed him up, gotten him to his dad. If Niall had just tried a little harder, because Zayn always listened to him, when it mattered.

He doesn’t make it too far before he breaks out into a sprint, not even caring enough to pull back so no one notices how fast he is. Once he’s broken through the trees and made it to the parking lot he pulls the keys out of his pocket and throws himself into his car, quickly turning it on and peeling out of the parking lot as quick as he dares. It’s not fast enough.

He speeds through the roads but it’s like he can’t go fast enough. Once he hits traffic he feels the anxiety start to set in, and his breathing starts to shorten and catch in his chest until he pulls into an alley and climbs out, spinning, hands in his hair. He can’t calm down, he can’t breathe, he can’t think; all he knows is he’s got tears running down his face, he’s making himself dizzy, and there’s someone coming at him.

The fight is over quickly, so much so that he barely even notices it when it’s over. He’s got his hands wrapped around the man’s throat, a knife thrown a few feet away from them, their faces close enough that Niall can feel the choked breaths of the other man on his face. He feels just as breathless as the man he’s choking.

 _You shouldn’t ever let go like that_ , he hears. _If you hurt someone, it’ll be your fault. And that’s not what you’re supposed to do, you know? You’re supposed to help people, not hurt them._

Slowly, Niall’s hands loosen around the man’s throat, and he lets go completely when he realizes the voice he’s hearing belongs to Zayn.

He can’t get out of there fast enough.

⦕⎈⦖

Spider-Man disappears, after that.

He’s just gone, without a trace, and there are mixed reactions. Some people are happy, those who never liked him, who thought he was a nuisance or a criminal. Now no one will have to clean up his mess. Now people can stroll down the street without the fear of being webbed up. Others are worried. If Spider-Man is gone, if he’s never coming back, who will protect New York? Who will help those who can’t help themselves? The Avengers are much too high profile to worry about one city.

Niall doesn’t listen to the news, anymore. He wants to throw out his police scanner, but Denise won’t let him. Says he’ll want it back eventually. As if.

His friends try to talk to him, to include him, but he ignores them. He goes to school, he picks up Theo, he goes home, he repeats. He can’t handle anything more.

It’s not like anyone really needs him. Either one of him. Spider-Man was a glorified bounty-hunter, only without the bounty. The only real threat New York ever faced was the Green Goblin, and that’s been dealt with. The rest are just petty criminals, car thieves and drug dealers. Nothing the NYPD can’t handle themselves. Captain Malik has made many a statement about just how much crime in the city has gone down since his disappearance. Good riddance to the Spider-Man, he’d said.

Niall couldn’t agree more.

If it weren’t for the fact that no, actually, he wouldn’t like to spend the rest of his life working in a diner with his aunt, he’d probably quit school, too. He hates walking onto campus, so that all his classmates can give him that _look_ everyone he knows has been giving him since it happened. And senior year is going to be total shit. He won’t be able to sit and eat lunch with Liam, knowing that the only reason they’re the only ones left is because one of their friends is in jail for killing the other, who was supposed to be off at college like the other two. He can’t.

Sometimes the grief and the anxiety will hit him so hard that it leaves him sprawled across the floor of whatever room he’s in, crying silently or unable to breathe. Keeping busy prevents it from happening, so he goes to school and he joins so many clubs to keep busy and he takes on extra credit assignments and he volunteers and he works so that he doesn’t have to think.

All he wants to do when he gets home is shower and go to bed, which is why he’s surprised to find a man sitting on his couch when he walks in. Denise looks up at him, her eyes warm in the way they haven’t been in months, shining with pride.

“Niall, why didn’t you tell me?” she says. Niall’s brows pull together. He doesn’t understand. “Sorry, what kind of greeting is that, um, you know—”

“Tony,” says Tony _freaking_ Stark, holding a hand out over the back of the couch. Niall takes it cautiously, shaking quickly and nodding. “It’s about time we met. You’ve been getting my emails, right?” He winks obviously with both eyes.

Swallowing hard, Niall nods. “I’m, um, I’m Niall. Yeah, of course I have, um.” He glances at Denise, eyes wide. “Regarding the—”

“You didn’t even tell me about the grant,” Denise says, shaking her head.

“—the grant,” Niall finishes.

“The September Foundation,” Tony Stark says. “Remember when you applied?” Niall nods weakly. “Well, I approved.”

Denise smiles at Tony Stark— _Tony freaking Stark_ — but turns to Niall, looking disappointed. “You didn’t even tell me you applied, what’s up with that? You keeping secrets from me, now?” Niall almost scoffs. If only she knew.

Instead, he says, “Well, I just know how much you love surprises, so I just thought, with everything’s that happened, you know,” he shrugs, turns back to Tony freaking Stark. “Anyway, what did I apply for?”

“That’s what I’m here to hash out,” Tony Stark says. He turns to Denise. “Give me five minutes with him?”

“‘Course,” Denise says, waving them on.

Niall leads the man to his room, not letting his guard down. He’s setting his bag down when he hears the unmistakable click of the lock on his door. When he turns, the man is staring at him, calculating. He waves a hand at Niall’s desk flippantly. “Retro tech, huh? Thrift store, Salvation Army?”

“Uh,” Niall scratches his neck awkwardly. “The garbage, actually.”

“You’re a dumpster diver?” Tony Stark—Niall really has to think of something else to call him—asks.

Niall shrugs. “Well, yeah, I was—anyway, I definitely did not apply for your grant—”

“Ah ah!” Mr. Stark interrupts, holding up a finger. “Me first. Quick question of the rhetorical variety,” he says, pulling out his phone. A holographic image mimicking the screen appears in front of it, like a mini projector, playing a video. It pauses when Niall—no, when _Spider-Man_ swings right in front of the camera. “That’s you, right?”

Crossing his arms, Niall makes a face, shaking his head. “Um, no, I don’t—”

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark says, changing the angle of his phone. It switches to another video, from when Spider-Man first appeared, stopping a car from hitting a bus. “Look at you go. Wow, nice catch, three thousand pounds, forty miles an hour. That’s not easy.” He nods, impressed, setting the phone on Niall’s desk, the image of Spider-Man holding the car still floating above the screen. “You got mad skills.”

Niall shakes his head, walking over to the desk. “That’s—that’s all on YouTube, though, right? I mean, that’s where you found that? Because you know that’s all fake, that’s all done on the computer, like—” he stares at the phone, rambling, because this cannot be happening right now.

Mr. Stark nods, but Niall doesn’t watch him, staring at the phone. “Oh, yeah, yeah, like those UFO’s over Phoenix?” Niall turns just as he pokes one of Greg’s old baseball bats at the attic door, and he hops over as the bundle of all his suits comes swinging down, grabbing it and dropping it into his closet. He turns, nodding, trying to act casual, but his heart is pounding much faster than usual, almost as if he were in the middle of a fight all over again.

“So,” Mr. Stark says, staring at him. “You’re the Spider...ling. Crime fighting spider. You’re Spider-Boy?”

“Spider-Man,” Niall corrects quietly, picking at his nails.

“Not in that onesie, you’re not,” Mr. Stark says.

Niall makes a face, insulted. “It’s not a onesie,” he says, crossing back over to his desk. Mr. Stark grabs the bundle, pulling out the suit he made when he first got his powers. “I’ve gone through, like, four different suits, okay, we’re not all billionaires. You know, my day already sucked, alright, Mr. Stark; I missed my bus, got into trouble in class, my friends are being assholes.” He clenches his jaw, grabbing a screwdriver off his desk and playing with it.

“Who else knows, anybody?” Mr. Stark asks, the suit in his hand. Niall shakes his head. “Not even your sister?”

Niall scoffs. “No—no, _no_ no, if she knew she would freak out, and when she freaks out I freak out, and—” 

Mr. Stark pulls out one of the cases with Niall’s webbing in it. “You know what I think is really cool? This webbing,” he throws the case at Niall, who catches it without looking. “That tensile strength is off the charts. Who manufactured that?”

“I did,” Niall sighs, throwing the case at the other suits, still in the closet. Mr. Stark hums, playing with the suit in his lap.

“Climbing the walls, how you doing that?” he asks.

Shaking his head, Niall bends over his desk again. “It’s a long story, I was, uh—”

“Lordy!” Mr. Stark exclaims, holding the suit’s goggles up to his eyes. “Can you even see in these—wahh I’m blind—”

“Yes, I can!” Niall snaps, snatching the suit out of his hand. He tosses it onto the pile with the others. “I can see in those, okay, it’s just. When whatever happened, happened, it’s like my senses have been dialled to eleven. There’s—there’s way too much input, so. They just kind of help me focus. Those aren’t even the ones I use anymore, okay, I perfected the design, I actually look cool now.” He keeps his voice down, all too aware of Denise puttering around in the kitchen.

Mr. Stark squints at him. “I’ve seen all your suits, kid. Either way, you’re in dire need of an upgrade.” He waves a hand, gesturing to all of Niall. “Systemic, top to bottom. That’s why I’m here.” He watches as Niall sits on his bed. “Why’re you doing this?” Niall stares at him. “I gotta know, what’s your MO, what gets you out of that twin bed in the morning?”

Chewing on his lip, Niall stares down at his hands. “Because…” he sighs. “Because I’ve been me my whole life, and I’ve had these powers for a year.” Mr. Stark hums. “I read books, I build computers. And—and yeah, I would love to play football, but I couldn’t then so I shouldn’t now.”

“Sure, because you’re different,” Mr. Stark agrees.

“Exactly,” Niall shrugs. “But I can’t tell anybody that so I’m not." He shakes his head, looking down. "When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t. And _then_ the bad things happen? They happen because of you.”

Mr. Stark leans forward, his eyes so intense Niall has to look away from them. “So you wanna look out for the little guy, do your part, make the world a better place, all that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall says, nodding. “Just—just looking out for the little guy. That’s what it is.” He frowns, brows pulling together, and shakes his head. “But I, but I _don’t_ , anymore, I can’t.”

“Well, why’s that?” Mr. Stark asks.

Niall swallows, hard. He can feel it coming up again, the anger, the anxiety, the grief he never really processed. “I just. They don’t need me anymore.” He waves outside his window, to the city that’s hated him ever since an innocent boy died because he failed to do his job. “They’re better off without me, so I stopped.”

Mr. Stark nods, leaning back in his seat. “You know, your sister told me all about your boyfriend.” Niall’s head snaps up to look at him, eyes wide, but he waves him off. “I don’t care about that, please. What I do care about is the fact that you stopped looking out for the little guy because of one mistake. A mistake that wasn’t even yours.”

Scoffing, Niall says, “Zayn—Zayn died because of _me_ , Mr. Stark. Because I couldn’t catch him, because I let him come along in the first place. If I had kept him away he’d be alive right now. I can’t keep letting that happen; I had to stop, so no one else would get hurt.”

“They’re getting hurt _because_ you stopped, kid,” Mr. Stark says sharply. “You just said it—when you can do what you do and you don’t, it’s your fault. One casualty doesn’t change that.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. There’s a bruise on his eye, Niall notices. How didn’t he catch that before. “Look. I get it, alright. Lots of people have died because I didn’t do my job right. But more people would have died if I hadn’t done my job at all, and that’s what you need to realize. Now that you’ve stopped doing your thing, the crime rate in New York City has gone up twelve percent. That’s so much, kid. So you’re gonna put your onesie back on, and you’re gonna get back out there, and you’re gonna watch out for the little guy. You hear me?”

Brows pulling together, Niall nods shakily. He has to blink back tears, and doesn’t notice when Mr. Stark stands up and approaches him.

“I’m gonna sit here, so move the leg,” he says. Clearing his throat, Niall adjusts himself so he’s not in the way. He shifts to the side, not quite jumping when Mr. Stark claps a hand to his shoulder. “You got a passport?”

Niall shakes his head, swiping a hand over his eyes. “No, I don’t even have a driver’s license.”

Mr. Stark squints. “You ever been to Germany?”

“What? No, I—I can’t go to Germany,” Niall says forcefully. Mr. Stark frowns.

“Why?” he asks, sounding like Theo when he can’t get what he wants.

Niall narrows his eyes at him, jaw dropping. “Because, I got—I got. Homework.” It’s a weak argument and he knows it, and Mr. Stark knows it too.

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” he says, sliding off the bed. He walks off, mumbling to himself how “it might be a little dangerous,” but Niall isn’t having it.

“I’m being serious, I can’t drop out of school, I—”

Mr. Stark ignores him. “I’m gonna have to tell Sister Dee that I’m taking you on a field-trip—” Niall stands, shooting a web at his hand where it’s on the doorknob. Mr. Stark stares at it passively, then looks back up to Niall, who holds out a finger.

“Don’t tell Denise,” he says.

“Alright, Spider-Man,” Mr. Stark says, and Niall feels it, the importance behind that one sentence. They stare at each other, and it’s like everything he’s been through has led to this one moment, and _oh my god what if he’s about to become an Avenger Zayn would be so jealous why does he have to miss this_ , but he’s _back._ Spider-Man is back and he never should have left in the first place, what was he thinking— “Cut me out of this,” Mr. Stark says, annoyed, and Niall, startled out of his reverie, nods.

“Right, right, I’ll get the, uh,” and he goes to get some scissors because he still hasn’t figured out an antiserum to get the web to dissolve quicker, but. As he’s cutting Mr. Stark out, all he can think is how proud Zayn would be. The little smile he would give Niall if he were here, his Niall-smile, as Louis called it. Zayn would want him to go to Germany.

So hell yeah, he’s going to Germany.

**Author's Note:**

> :))))))))))))


End file.
